


The Flower of Markarth

by primanocta



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: "friends" to lovers, Arranged Marriage, Character Death, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Emotionally Repressed, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Light Dom/sub, Marking, Opposites Attract, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 171,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primanocta/pseuds/primanocta
Summary: After the death of her parents, Larina Devereaux is taken in as a ward by the Jarl of Markarth: after the transfer of his mentor, Corrilian is sent to Markarth to replace Ondolemar as the Justiciar. The two have to decide what their true allegiances are during The War..((lots of slow-burn, my first time writing a Skyrim fanfic and I desperately wanted to write something inspired by the Thalmor ! ))
Relationships: Female Human Character/ Male High Elf, Larina x Corrilian, Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Human Character(s), Thalmor (Elder Scrolls)/Original Character(s), Thalmor (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 355
Kudos: 116





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ~obviously I do not claim the rights to The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and have just written this fanfic to suit my own interests! This work will be an amalgamation of canon and oc characters mostly in the city of Markarth~

“ _Believe me_ my friend, after your first week in Markarth you will see what a craggy, _wretch_ of a city it is”. The older Mer raised an eyebrow and smirked to himself, taking a sip of his wine. “ _Anything_ is better than overseeing some outpost in the middle of _nowhere_ ”. His friend across the table responded. The Mer laughed, “just wait and see Corrillian, the Nordic sense of culture is lacking _everywhere_.”

Corrillian paused for a moment, deciding out what to say. “I am sure I will not find such hard work there Ondolemar, especially after your diligence. But won’t you get bored returning to the embassy? I cannot imagine you becoming a host” the younger Mer scoffed at his mentor’s new, elevated position. Ondolemar refilled his glass before responding. “I have had enough of this foul country, the sooner the Rebellion is quashed the better.” Corrillian could see the tiredness in his mentor's eyes. "And If I have to play the host to keep the Ambassador happy before she transfers me home, so be it”.

Taking a sip of his wine before responding Corrillian asked. “And is there any advice you could give an old friend before he frees you of this _terrible_ burden?”. Ondolemar smirked at his words again. “You will not find it filled with good company but your work will keep you suitably occupied. The worship of Talos is not yet fully eradicated and the Jarl of Markarth is not as simple as you may believe”. Corrillian had heard stories, from his mentor himself, of Jarl Igmund’s fickleness. “The man is easily swayed by money, and it may benefit you if you play him right. The Court Mage is an elderly fool and his nephew is just as bothersome, I will be surprised if you find decent stimulation there”. Ondolemar pinched the bridge of his nose at the thought. “Make the effort to converse with them, as the only Mers there at least they understand what culture is. But do keep an eye on them, the Jarl is supporting Calcelmo’s research for a reason and his reports on his findings are quite elusive”.

Corrilian nodded “And anything else?”. Ondolemar pushed the bottle across the table to him. “ _ **Yes**_ take some decent wine with you my friend, otherwise you will be remembering this fondly when you’re drinking Nordic piss”.


	2. Rust and Charcoal Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending the day working in Calcelmo's laboratory, Larina is reminded of the arrival of Markarth's new Thalmor Justiciar...tomorrow. She assumes this won't affect her position in Markarth's court as the Jarl's ward until her aunt lets slip the nobilities plans of bribing him onto their side. She can only hope for the best that she is not dragged into the courts game of shadows...

“By the divine Larina, if you move another thing from the desk so help me I’ll use you as Falmer bait” Aicantar huffed, wrenching the rusty cog out of the young Breton’s hands. She looked away sheepishly as she gathered up her parchment and charcoal before changing tables. She was only trying to draw it from another angle and thought she was helping. 

As she joined his table, Calcelmo shrugged and made space amongst the mess that surrounded him. Making sure his nephew was no longer paying attention, he whispered under his breath, “one of his tests this morning did not exactly go to plan” and he gestured to a charred box that had been left on the table.

“Oh...I just assumed someone had eaten his sweetroll this morning” Larina whispered back, the two of them stifling laughter as Aicantar shot them daggers. As much as the Mer complained about being _stuck_ in Markarth, Larina knew from his work that he enjoyed his research into the Dwemer ruins as much as his uncle, and his penchant for sweet rolls was beginning to take its toll on his once lithe physique. Flattening her papers and drawing up a wooden chair to match the height of Calcelmo’s table, she reached for her charcoal and asked, “is there anything specifically you would like detailed today?”. He paused for a moment and then, as he suddenly remembered, passed Larina a leather bag from his bookshelf. 

“Someone was kind enough to send me some dwemer arrows the other day… I said that spreading the word through shopkeepers about my research would pay off” Calcelmo shot a look at his nephew, to further prove his point.

Larina groaned, “Calcelmo I have drawn you plenty of Dwemer weapons, these arrows are no different from the last!”. He didn’t respond but pulled the bolts from the bag.

“Look at these though… they have been hand made!”. Larina took them out of his hand, turning them over in her own. The hours she had spent perfecting their detail in charcoal gave her a keen eye on their appearance, and despite a few marks here and there, they looked identical to the ancient ones found on the odd scouting missions in the mines. 

“But these are near perfect, how did you know?”. Calcelmo offered a price for anything Dwemer related, hoping to find something unique to each ruin. Larina wondered if an adventurer had hoped to call his bluff and make some easy coin.

“They left a note with them” he smiled, removing the small piece of parchment from the bag. “They explained they had found Dwemer machinery and weaponry in a small ruin during a scouting mission. They could not push forward any deeper into the ruins and only took the lightest things they could carry, and attempted to recreate them in their own forge”. They were certainly well crafted, Larina could give them that, but she wondered what the benefit would be in recreating old Dwemer weaponry? She knew that Calcelmo and Aicantar had hoped to unlock the secret of the ancient Dwemer technology through their research, to utilise in the present. It was at these times she remembered where their true allegiance lay. 

Though they never spoke of it, and although her uncle the Jarl heavily supported their research here in Markarth, she knew their research was governed by the Thalmor, hoping to increase their own technological prowess. Weapons like these could turn the tide of war. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she reached for something to prop up the bolts and began her sketches, focusing on portraying these hand-crafted arrows in precise detail. Larina even furthered the sketches with comparisons of the recent bolts and their ancient counterparts, highlighting the similarities and differences. 

After hours sat hunched over her drawings, Larina sat up and stretched, the sound of her bones cracking back into place caused Calcelmo to wince. “You will regret that when you’re older” he gestured knowingly, and Larina rolled her eyes in response. Getting up to stretch her legs, she poured the two Mer a drink and brought them some food: like her they had not moved in hours, and she knew without her attention, they would not have eaten until late evening. She received no thanks from Aicantar, so deep into his research notes she would have been surprised if he had noticed she was there. But Calcelmo flashed her a warm smile, over the last few months he had increasingly treated her more like family, more so than her own uncle and had become increasingly protective of her. When Aicantar recently suggested another research trip into the ruins, hoping to push in deeper, Larina had suggested he take her along hoping she could take sketches of the ruins and their decorations. Calcelmo bluntly put her in her place, refusing to change his stance. She wondered if he was concerned about her safety or if it was because she held no real value to their research: they had managed perfectly well for years on Aicantar’s crude drawings of their findings, and she wondered if her assistance was just a kind way of humoring her. Larina hoped it was the former.

Evidently his hunger was more drawing than his research, as Larina watched as Aicanter lay down his quill and wolfed down his bread roll. More refined than what she saw at the dinner table in the Jarl’s hall, Aicantar made sure to finish his mouthful before addressing his uncle. “I was thinking of asking the Jarl again tomorrow about an expedition into the ruins, it would make sense to prioritise on the Reach's current stability”. Larina knew that convincing Calcelmo was equally as hard as convincing the Jarl, and she waited for his response, hoping she too might be able to convince him of her involvement. 

“I would not count on it Aicantar” he had barely looked up from his papers and Larina could see the annoyance building on Aicantar’s normally restrained face.

“Why not? The rebellion has almost been quashed and there could be no reason why he would not permit me some guards for protection?”. Aicantar had crossed the room to confront his uncle, leaning on his table to draw his attention from his work. Calcelmo lay down his quill, reached for the last bite of his food and responded.

“Our new Justiciar arrives tomorrow, he has not stated why he is arriving so early but the attention of the Jarl will certainly be distracted by that”. Larina sat up in interest, she was vaguely aware of his arrival, from conversations with her uncle and Calcelmo - but despite their friendship, he had not told her much more. She was not surprised when the last Justiciar left Markarth a few months prior, he had despised the city far more than Aicantar and had no shame in showing it. Larina thought his departure had signalled the eradication of the worship of Talos completely in Markarth and assumed that the Justiciar had been reassigned somewhere else in need of _cleansing_ . But the arrival of a new Justiciar suggested otherwise. Despite daily meetings and frequent letters from the Thalmor Ambassador, her uncle was not quick to hand over the man accused by the Justiciar of Talos worship in the city. Maybe they still regarded him with distrust, although their presence _was_ shown in almost all of the holds that held allegiance with the Imperial army. 

Larina wondered what Calcelmo and Aicantar thought of them, they rarely spoke of politics and she felt too uncomfortable to ask: not counting the soldiers, the presence of the Justiciar was an added Altmer presence for them both, did they spend the evenings together recounting their lives and their homes she wondered? Larina rarely saw them both in the evenings, save for the few occasions they were invited to dine with the Jarl and his family, and realised she had never really asked them how they spent their free time. She often assumed they just continued with their research. In an attempt at nonchalance, hoping to find out more Larina asked. “Have you known the Justiciar before or is he just as much as a stranger to you?” hoping she did not sound nosy. 

She was surprised when it was Aicantar that answered and not Calcelmo. “I am vaguely aware of him” Aicantar’s face revealed no emotion that would help Larina guess at his feelings towards the new Justiciar. “We were tutored together in magick, but I have not seen him since...though it is _little_ surprise he now works for the Thalmor” Larina wondered what he meant, and if she had imagined Calcelmo tutting under her breath. Not knowing much about the Justiciar was not important to her, she had no association with the last - not that she wanted to, Larina had heard how they weasled the truth out of people. As long as she did not suddenly gain an interest in worshipping Talos it would stay that way. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave us Larina” Calcelmo looked up from his work and smiled. His laboratory was so deep in the keep there was no possibility of windows, and so no concept how much time had passed save the glimpses she got from his pocket watch.

Larina had not realised how covered she was in charcoal, “I _should_ probably go wash up”. Like always she lingered, in the hopes that one day he would ask her to work over time, she had nothing else going on in her evenings.

Knowing why she lingered Calcelmo chuckled softly and ushered for her to leave, “there is no point in wasting your evening with us”. If only he knew how bored she was when she left. He pressed a few coins into her hands, there was no point in arguing with him, she had tried and failed so many times in the past. In some ways she was thankful for it, she received no allowance from her uncle - not that she needed one with everything provided for her - and she still could not access the inheritance left by her parents, and so she stashed it away in case of emergencies. Although the Reach was so relatively peaceful at the moment, Larina knew firsthand how quickly things could change and swore to never leave herself so vulnerable again. 

Accepting that there was no more work for her, Larina bid a good evening to them both and left Calcelmo’s laboratory. Out of all the places in Markarth she realised it had become one of her favourite places to spend time, especially inside the Keep. Although her uncle and his family had voiced no issue on her spending so much time with the Mer, she knew they weren’t exactly fond of how much time she spent in the laboratory. Even as a lesser noble in her uncle’s court, there were still standards she was expected to uphold, none of which involved darting around the Keep covered in charcoal and dust. But she had no interest in letting herself rot away inside, especially with her cousins: unlike her they had been born here and had become accustomed to spending most of their time inside the Keep and could not fathom why she missed the sun on her face and the smell of running through the woods. They were even shocked that she had swapped her large guest bedroom for somewhere far less spacious - but the small balcony with a view of the Reach more than made up for it. Sheltered from the rain - with the exception of extremely stormy days - the balcony was small enough to fit in a small seated cushion and rug that Larina had bought from a market stall on the last occasion she was allowed out of Understone: if she had known at the time that her uncle would deem spending time outside the walls of the Keep as dangerous and would forbid all outside expeditions, she would have made the most of that freedom.

Granted she was permitted the walk to the Temple of Dibella as it was in close proximity to the Keep and did not involve descending into lower Markarth, and herself and her cousins were allowed to walk along the Upper Walls so long as they were accompanied by the guards. But her cousins had no interest in walking outside to take in the fresh air and without them she was no longer permitted that freedom. As such, she found herself spending more and more time at the Temple but her uncle was growing suspicious; he knew that her family had never worshipped the goddess of beauty and Larina knew he would soon put a stop to her leaving the Keep altogether. 

Lost in her thoughts on how to get around the decision on the Dwemer ruin when the time came, Larina did not realise she had run into her aunt as she rounded the corner. She grabbed Larina’s wrist preventing her from tumbling to the floor at the last moment, before casting a look over her niece in disdain. “It is best you washed and changed before you joined us at the table” Daciana sighed and Larina found herself rubbing her face in embarrassment, she had always made sure to attend the table with her appearance fixed but her aunt always found an opportunity to nitpick her. As her mother’s sister Larina had hoped she would show her kindness when she arrived in Markarth - especially after the loss of her parents, only to receive the opposite. Larina did not threaten her cousins inheritance to the Jarl’s throne and so she could only assume that it was her presence that reminded Dacianna of her ancestry that her aunt was so ashamed of. As the daughter of two Bretons, Larina had inherited a mixture of her parents' features but especially her father’s pointed ears and affinity to magicka - which reminded Daciana of her race’s origins. Unlike her and with their pure-blooded Nordic father, Hrókr and Edurne had taken after the Jarl, much to Daciana’s pride. When Edurne once revealed she held some magickal capabilities just like Larina, her aunt forced the Jarl to ban all magickal practice within the Keep. Larina had never asked _why_ her aunt despised her heritage so much, practically bullying her niece for presenting it so, and could not fathom it. The Reach was filled with those of Breton heritage, and although the Forsworn had terrorised travellers of Markarth so, there were many Breton noble families that graced the Jarl’s court and Daciana treated them with the utmost respect. So why single her out? 

Her face already cast with exasperation, Daciana chastised her further. “Incase you had _forgotten_ the Jarl is having guests over after dinner, and you are expected to attend”. Daciana never referred to Igmund as Larina’s uncle, only as the _Jarl_ to her, to further remind her of her disconnect to their family.

“I _did_ …” Larina sighed and dared to ask “but why is the _Jarl_ hosting them this evening?” those few hours of precious solitude meant everything to her: it _was_ isolating trapped in her stone cage for hours but Larina would much rather spend it on her own than watch Faleen miserably attempt to train Hrókr how to wield a sword, or endure Edurne’s attempt at spiteful commentary.

“It is _not_ your position to ask” Daciana chastised her again “make sure you are not late” she reminded her as she left down the hall. 

Larina clenched her hands together and bit her tongue, she so desperately wanted to grab her aunt by the shoulders, and ask _why her_ , why treat her so viciously? The rest of Markarth’s nobles barely gave her a second glance, so why did her aunt feel the need to single her out? Worried about her lateness and wanting to avoid provoking her aunt any further, Larina darted to her room to wash and change. She braided her hair to fix its messiness and dressed in a simple gown of moss green, most of her outfits were remnants of her past life in High Rock where in her town simplicity and natural colours were prided most of all: for the court of Markarth she was practicality underdressed but Larina feared that wearing any new attainment would provoke Daciana further in her assumption that her niece was upstaging Edurne at the court. Her aunt had even gone as far to restrict the other girls of the court from wearing the colours that emphasised the few gleaming qualities that Edurne held: the Silver-Blood’s and Silver-Smith’s went along with it to avoid her temper. 

Wondering _why_ her uncle would call a counsel after their meal played on Larina’s mind, it was not unusual for the Jarl to host extravagant parties for his small court in the Keep but usually he falsified some excuse to celebrate. Larina wondered if it was due to the arrival of the new Thalmor Justiciar, had they celebrated like this when the last arrived? She doubted it, they were glad to see him gone and hoped he had been the last. But the Thalmor, and the Empire, still kept their ties to Markarth and anyone with sense would know the rest of the noble families would see it as a weakness in the Jarl’s power. Ever since Madanach’s Rebellion, the Silver-Blood’s hold over Markarth was dwindling: once the only men to rival her uncle’s power, they were forced to bend the knee when Thonar’s involvement with the Forsworn was revealed. It was only their silver mine, that supplied most of the silver in all of Skyrim, that had spared Thonar the block. 

Larina was stuck in these thoughts even as she joined her family at the dining table, and found herself too anxious to eat. The court had not seen anyone new since her arrival, and given that she would not see much of the Justiciar save for his rounds of the Court, she would be spared from seeing him. But why was she so concerned? “You have not touched much of your food…” Larina’s head snapped up. Her uncle’s Housecarl Faleen noted, the only member of court who had really kept an eye on her since her arrival. Daciana cast her gaze over Larina but said not a word, Faleen’s question did not raise any awareness in anyone else, they were too deep in enjoying their meals.

“I guess I have a bit of a headache” Larina shrugged and tried her best to finish the stew that was in front of her, but it had grown cold and unappetising. 

As the servants came to clear the table, the Jarl and his family left for the hall ready for the arrival of their guests: before she had a choice to join them, Daciana had grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her back. “Remember to _behave_ yourself tonight, you are representing the Jarl…” Daciana gave her a look that Larina could only interpret as pity and nodded in reply. Why was tonight so important? Trailing after her family, Larina joined them in the Great Hall, a newest addition to Understone Keep. 

Funded by the Silver-Blood’s by way of an apology, the new room had been built from a piece of the crumbling Dwemer infrastructure and finally gave Understone the grace of a Jarl’s court that it so desperately needed. The Jarl’s throne room was not ideal for hosting guests for celebration and Understone had many a room that had fallen into neglect: before her death, Betrid Silver-Blood had assisted Daciana in planning the cultivation of the rooms and had added the addition of a hot house and additional guest bedrooms from the unused space and had found a way to utilise some of the Dwemer technology that Calcelmo had discovered. The Great Hall itself was circular in design and followed most of the signature Dwemer style, save for the ceiling that had been adorned with a fresco of a starry sky by an Imperial artist - it was the thing that Daciana was most proud of. That and the hot house that she had designed, and spent most of her time in, supplied all of the fresh flowers that fragranced the room, and bolstered her argument as to why there was little reason to leave the keep. 

As they arrived in the hall, Daciana brushed past her to join Kerah Silver-Smith at a stone table to no doubt drink themselves to sleep on Alto wine; since the death of the other Markarth matriarch, Betrid, Kerah had convinced Daciana to become more accepting of letting her niece sit with them. Not that she had any interest in drinking, rather it was easier to drift through their conversations then spend time with her cousin and her friends. At her arrival, Liesel Silver-Blood and Adara Silver-Smith were fascinated by Larina and wanted to know all about her life as an outsider, until Edurne had twisted their minds. Liesel was simple minded and followed Edurne like a sheep and especially since the death of her mother, she had become more spiteful: Adara was a lot more level headed but Larina could understand why she positioned herself with the others, it was safer that why. It was easier to ignore them all together. 

Ignoring the conversation of the ladies at the table, Larina looked around to see what her uncle was doing, spotting him with the men of the court. Around a table they were smoking pipes and a game of cards had been laid out - but no-one was playing. Joining the Jarl was his uncle, the Steward Raerek Silver-Stone, the two Silver-Blood men and Kerah’s husband Endon, and Larina could tell from the expression on her uncle’s face they were engaged in a serious conversation. Noticing the wine flush on Daciana’s face, Larina chanced her hand at prying information from her aunt, hoping for an answer. “What do you think they are talking about so secretively?” Larina joked to Kerah, knowing her aunt couldn’t ignore a chance at putting herself back in the spotlight.

Rolling her eyes Daciana responded “not that you would understand silly thing, but the arrival of the new Justiciar heralds a lot of things for Markarth, perhaps more than that Justiciar expects” her aunt flashed a sly look. Knowing that not responding to her aunt’s mysterious words would force the answer out of her sooner, Larina held her tongue. “We have heard rumours that the new Justiciar _Corrilian_ is far more stubborn than his predecessor but does have a penchant for the finer things in life” Daciana continued. “If we flourish him with Markarth’s finest I am quite sure he’ll fulfill our needs perfectly”. Even Larina was surprised at how much her aunt had spilled of their plan, and only she could foolishly think she could trap a _Thalmor_ agent as if he was a simple market boy. Even so, the thought filled Larina with unease with the possibilities that could go wrong. 

For a few hours Larina attempted to distract herself from the thoughts by joining in the idle conversation that was playing out before her, but found herself more and more restless. Asking permission to depart blaming her headache from before, Daciana tutted but waved her off. Not wanting to intrude on his conversation, Larina waited until she caught her uncle’s attention before bidding him goodnight from afar. As she was set to depart, Daciana gripped her wrist, perhaps a little too tightly and reminded her “remember to dress your finest tomorrow, we are all welcoming the new Justiciar on the steps of the keep” and Larina nodded, rubbing her wrist. At least she had not given her a set of demands about her arraignment this time. 

Her room was furthest from the Great Hall in the Keep, and as much as she liked the distance and seclusion, the long walk this evening allowed her to mull on her thoughts: the Jarl and his court had not been this involved with the last Justiciar, she was sure of it. So why now? She had seen enough of a court scandal at this little court and it worried her what game they were playing - she had come to learn she was no match for a court bigger than Markarth. But angering the Thalmor? That could risk something far worse than her uncle could anticipate. Unlike the other Jarl’s, her uncle had avoided the battlefield and chose others to do the fighting for him, but never had it been on his doorstep. _So far_. 

Opening the large, metal door to her room, Larina pressed a button on the wall that flooded the room with light. The only city in Skyrim to harness its power, Larina was still impressed by Markarth's use of Dwemer technology. Compared to her home back in High Rock, Larina’s room was massive but considered _small_ compared to the rest of the rooms in Understone. The room itself was split in two: the first part housed a large fireplace on one wall and a stone table on the other. Larina’s table was messily stacked high with papers and whatever books she could find through the merchants. Stepping through to the back room, her medium sized wooden bed lay against one wall and her wardrobe and wash basin against the other. The door to her balcony lay in the centre of the wall and usually she would spend a few moments out there before bed, watching the night stars twinkling over the Reach. But tonight she was tired, her energy spent from indulging her aunt in flattering conversation. She changed into her bed gown and decided against heating a warmer for her bed, opting to retrieve another blanket from her wardrobe. With some embers still dying in the fireplace, Larina turned off the lights and crawled into her bed, hoping her thoughts would soon stop racing and allow her a few hours of rest. 

Before her eyes began to drowsily close, Larina found herself staring at the ceiling picturing the sky outside and mulling over the events that would unfold tomorrow morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, not only have I given the Jarl a wife and children, but also given him a surname and ellevated Endon and Kerah to Markarth's nobility. With the direction of this wip I thought this would work well but would be happy to receive some criticism if some bits don't work well! Obviously I claim no ownership of the original characters that belong to The Elder Scrolls V/Bethesda


	3. A Cold Morning Meeting

After a few hours of restless sleep, Larina arose from her slumber and blearily rubbed her eyes free from rubbish. It had only taken a few months after her arrival to become accustomed to waking in the dark, and she still missed the stream of sunlight through her bedroom window that she was used to. But her body clock had adapted and with the help of the servants bringing her breakfast to her room in the mornings, she was able to rise on time. Usually Voada would bring her some bread and dried fruits with a cup of weak, honey mead- the only meal she was allowed to eat on her own. Daciana and Edurne _never_ rose early and by this time Faleen was already trying to squeeze in some training with Hrókr and so she was happy with the peace of eating her meal on her balcony, watching the daybreak over the Reach. But with the arrival of the new Justiciar mere hours away, her uncle had demanded they all eat together before his arrival so he could have a final word with them alone. 

Remembering her aunt’s words from the night before, Larina stretched and got out of bed, to find something suitable to wear in her wardrobe: she knew what kind of trouble to expect if she “outdressed” Daciana and Edurne or if she appeared underdressed. Larina decided on a pale turquoise dress that once belonged to her mother and that Voada had taught her to mend until it appropriately fitted her. In order to make it fit in with the arraignment of the court, Larina had embroidered little green flowers along the hem to conceal the few sewing mistakes she had made. It was perfect, she decided: pretty enough to blend it with the court, but _unfashionable_ enough that Daciana would not complain. Larina washed her face in the basin next to her wardrobe and regarded her appearance in the looking glass and noted a tiredness appearing under her eyes. She hoped tonight would not be another late one, not that she had anyone to _impress_ with her appearance but after a few late nights she found her concentration affected and after all this _nonsense_ she so desperately wanted to return to Calcelmo and continue her drawings. 

Larina pulled on her dress only to discover that she had forgotten to tailor the sleeves shorter, and it was fairly noticeable, the sleeves draped completely over her hands. She groaned for a moment before thinking quickly and reaching for her jewelry box: retrieving a pair of silver earrings that had been gifted to her by the Silver-Blood’s, Larina folded the sleeves up and pinned them in place, with the jewels on the inside of her wrist. She knew it would not be too noticeable, all of the families there would be extravagantly dressed in their finery and jewellery, the silver mined here was Markarth’s source of affluence. Larina combed through her hair and decided on pinning it up on her head, using the scrap of fabric leftover from her dress to tie it in place. Regarding her appearance in the looking glass a second time, she decided something was noticeably missing, the dress left part of her chest revealed and she did not yet have the figure to fill it out. Reaching for the jewellery box again, Larina removed her mother’s amulet of Kynareth and put it on. Running her fingers over it she hoped the goddess might alleviate some of her anxieties. 

By the time Larina had joined Jarl and his family at the dining table, they were almost finished with breakfast, and was not surprised to find the other noble families had joined them. Evidently, her uncle wanted to address them all together. The only chair free was between Kerah and Thonar Silver-Blood and reluctantly she took it, trying to ignore Thonar’s gaze as he looked her up and down. He made her uncomfortable and the comments he made about her used to be quiet enough that the Jarl never heard, but since the death of his wife he had become more brazen. As Larina added a handful of dried nuts and slices of apple to her plate, he whispered in her ear how radiant she looked. She suppressed a shudder and reached for the jug of honey mead, only for Thonar to pour a glass for her, Larina sunk back into her seat wishing she could sink through the floor. “I still don’t understand why you spend so much time in that damned laboratory” Thonar murmured in her ear, his warm breath on her neck causing her shoulders to hunch up. “If it’s money you’re after, you could always come work for me” Larina politely declined his offer as she did every time, wondering when he’d get the hint. Across the table she caught Daciana’s gaze and she flashed her a look of warning, she knew what her aunt presumed about her _relationship_ with Thonar and despite every time she tried to explain herself, she was immediately dismissed. 

The murmuring around the table dissipated as the Jarl rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “As we are all aware, our new Justiciar will soon be less than an hour away from arriving at the gates of Markarth. He was not supposed to be arriving until _late_ Hearthfire, the reason for his arrival several months early we can only _guess_ ” Larina heard as Thonar exhaled sharply. “Be that as it may, we _must_ welcome our new Justiciar with cordiality and assist him in whatever business he has that brought him here. I expect you all to join me on the steps in a half hours time where we will await to greet him” with that the Jarl pushed back his chair and departed for the throne room, with the steward and Thongvar Silver-Blood following after.

“ **_Larina!_ **” Daciana shouted across the table, beckoning her to join her. Excusing herself, she walked over to her aunt’s side. Daciana stood up and signalled for her to follow after, heading towards the Great Hall. Opening the doors, Daciana gestured to all of the flowers that adorned the tables, “I want you to remove these and replace them with bunches of red and blue mountain flowers, but first I want you to fill a vase with lavender and dragon tongue and place them in the Justiciar’s room for his arrival”. The flowers had not yet begun to wilt but Larina dared not argue with her aunt. Retrieving a small dwemer vase from the kitchens, Larina took it to the hot house and picked some of the flowers there, carefully arranging them into the vase. She wondered why her aunt had asked her so late to complete these errands when the military quarters were so far from the familial area. 

On the right hand side of the throne room was where the Justiciar and his guards would be expected to be stationed, already the rooms had been renovated for the Imperial legate that was stationed in Markarth, his rooms, boarding for his men and a meeting room. The blacksmithing area had also been improved to assist them. Rooms were already renovated and decorated for the new Justiciar, an office with a small window look out over the Karth river had been freed for the previous Justiciar across from the Legate’s meeting room and a second room for sleeping allocated above. When the Thalmor soldiers were stationed here last, they had expected separate accommodation from the Imperial soldiers. These rooms had recently been cleaned and aired out ready for their arrival: Larina could understand why her aunt wanted the flowers to add an additional welcoming scent to the room, but could she not have asked her yesterday? By the time Larina had climbed the stone staircase to the Justiciar’s room, her legs ached from the effort, and she felt somewhat nervous opening the door to such private quarters. Almost as if she was expecting someone to jump out. 

Supporting the vase with her left arm, Larina opened the door to the Justiciar’s room, the first time she had ever seen its interior. Larger than her own, the layout was still somewhat similar but to a grander scale. Unable to see into the bedroom she made her judgments on the living space, and saw that with the exception of the usual important furnishings, it was quite bare. Knowing she had the rest of her jobs to complete and not enough time to sneakily browse further, Larina took the vase of flowers over to the table, where they would be in line of sight when he arrived. She noticed that a sealed letter had been left on the table for the Justiciar, and she recognised the handwriting as her uncle’s. Larina decided to prop the note up against the flowers before departing the room to head back to the Great Hall. 

Moving as quickly as she could, Larina gathered up the bunches of flowers, taking them back with her to the hot house. Finding a wooden chest that she knew her aunt would not look through, Larina stuffed the bunches in there for later - she could use them for sketching practice before pressing the flowers. Filling a metal watering can with water, she carried handfuls of flowers back to the Great Hall to replenish the vases and freshen the water. She was unaware of time until Voada ran into the Hall as she was adding the finishing touches to the final bunch of flowers she had brought in. “The Justiciar has arrived at the Gates of Markarth and is heading to the Keep, the Jarl and his family are already waiting outside!” Voada wheezed and with a flash of panic Larina finally understood why Daciana had given her this task. She wanted Larina to be as late as possible to embarrass herself and the Jarl, to give him an excuse to chastise her later. 

Thanking Voada, Larina rushed out of the Great Hall towards the entrance, stopping herself before the door to fix her appearance and catch her breath. Though she was already late, it was one less thing Daciana could pride herself on and although the walk from the city gates to the Keep was not a long one, it was up a steep incline that she knew would buy her some time. As she stepped outside, Larina noticed they had all assumed a crescent formation, with the Jarl’s family in the middle: as she joined them, Daciana shot a smirk over her shoulder at her niece, “I _told_ you not to be late” she whispered smugly, and Larina had to bite her tongue. To the left of them stood Thonar Silver-Blood and his daughter Liesel and to the right, the Silver-Smith family: the Jarl stood a few steps below them flanked by the steward, Thongvor Silver-Blood, Faleen and a handful of Markarth’s guards. Although the Justiciar would be escorted by his own soldiers as well as the Legate and his Imperial men, her uncle was not taking any chances. 

They saw the glint of the golden, elven armour first, as the sun hit them as they climbed the stairs to the keep. Accompanied not only by the Legate Admand, whose men were red-faced and breathless in comparison - the new Justiciar was flanked by several Thalmor soldiers who parted as he reached the steps before the Jarl and positioned themselves behind him, hands still on swords. Even obscured by Daciana’s figure, Larina was surprised to see the Justiciar was not wearing the robes typically worn by the Thalmor Justiciars on his arrival. He was still dressed all in black but instead he was adorned with a floor length black cloak that was held by two symmetrical silver pins with a silver chain linking them - his position revealed that underneath he wore black leather trousers and tunic. Like all altmer men his figure was tall and lithe, his skin tinged slightly golden and his eyes a vivid amber. His hair, even longer than the women of Markarth’s court, was an icy white with two pieces braided behind his head rather than falling in his face: Larina noticed, glinting in the cool sunlight that two silver rings adorned his right, pointed ear. His appearance surprised her, and Larina knew that the rest of the court were thinking the same as her; even on the few occasions that Justiciar Ondolemar wore his hood down, he never wore any jewellery. Although she could not easily distinguish aldmeri ages, Larina could tell by his features - which were remarkably high - that he was considerably younger than their previous Justiciar. Larina felt herself blushing as she drank in his appearance and dropped her gaze. 

Markarth’s steward stepped forward and bowed lowly before him, and the Justiciar said nothing in regard save raising his eyebrows. Sweeping upright the steward finally spoke “Welcome to Markarth Justiciar, we hope your journey was not too tiresome”.

“It was...rather long” he responded quite dryly.

Larina could see the steward struggling for words as he nodded in response, “quite, I can imagine so… we will give you time to rest after I have introduced the court”. Remembering her expectations Larina steadied herself for her queue. Gesturing to her uncle the steward spoke, “Igmund Silver-Stone, Jarl of Markarth” her uncle bowed deeply before stepping forward and extending his hand to the Justiciar.

“I hope you will find your postionment here in Markarth _not_ too tiresome, and we will assist you with whatever you ask”. The Justiciar remained silent but shook his hand.

Gesturing to himself the steward continued “I am Raerek Silver-Stone, Steward of Markarth and uncle to the Jarl. Most of your everyday dealings will be through me” Larina was not surprised he had made sure to solidify his position. Turning to her family he introduced them individually, “Daciana Silver-Stone, wife of the Jarl - and their two children Hrókr and Edurne” they bobbed and curstied in place before joining the Jarl’s side.

Smiling fully that her teeth showed, Daciana informed the Justiciar that “I had taken the liberty of adding fresh flowers to your room, they’ve been grown by myself in our recently constructed hot house. I know from experience that the journey to Markarth is an arduous one and I hope this will be a pleasant welcome for you”. The Justiciar bowed his head and dryly thanked her. 

As the steward turned to face her, Larina felt her throat jump into her throat, her hands pinching the skirt of her dress beginning to shake slightly. “The Jarl’s niece, Larina Devereaux” the Jarl introduced and Larina felt the Justiciar’s gaze flick over her; she felt her face flush with embarrassment as their gaze met, and startingly she realised she had missed her queue: Larina fumbled her curtsy, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor before hurrying to her position behind her family. She could feel Daciana’s scathing look boring into her skull. 

“Thongvor Silver-Blood, head of the Silver-Blood family and advisor to the Jarl” the steward continued, gesturing to the man who flanked the Jarl on his left side, turning to the rest of his family the steward introduced “His brother Thonar Silver-Blood and his daughter Liesel” they bowed and curtsied in place. “The Silver-Blood family own Cidhna Mine at the bottom of Markarth, where most of the silver in Skyrim is sourced!”, the Justiciar still remained silent and bowed his head. Finally turning to the last high noble family of Markarth, and stood behind the Jarl’s family, the steward introduced “Endon Silver-Moon and his wife Kerah, the Silver-Moon family make and trade the best jewellery in all of Skyrim with the silver from Cidhna Mine!” **_A very strong boast_ ** Larina mused “and their daughter, Adara”. With introductions finished, the court of Markarth waited in anticipation to hear what the new Justiciar had to say.

Larina watched as he removed his leather gloves, handing them to the Thalmor soldier closest to him, and flexed his hands; she could not help but notice how long and graceful they looked. With his gaze completely on the Jarl he finally spoke “I was quite surprised to find such a welcoming to greet me this morning but I thank you” and reciprocated their bows fully and quickly. “I am sure you will all be understanding if I request to retire to my room for a short period to rest” It was more a demand than a request Larina thought but her uncle nodded all the same.

“Of course we will” Igmund turned and gestured to his uncle “my steward will show you to your room and my housecarl Faleen will show your guards where their rooms are, we hope that you will join us to dine later this evening but in the meantime a servant will bring some food to your room. Please, take your time in becoming accustomed to your surroundings”. The Justiciar thanked him again and turned with him to head into the Keep. Remembering what she had been told the night previous, Larina waited as the Jarl and Justiciar headed into the keep first, followed by the Steward and Thongvar, then her family and herself. _At least you’re not last_ , Larina thought to herself as she trailed after Daciana and her cousins, with the Silver-Blood’s and Silver-Smith’s following her step. 

“ **_HEEL...I SAID HEEL'' the_ ** loud outburst caused them all to pause in their tracks and turn towards the commotion. Larina watched as a Thalmor guard came rushing towards them, chasing two large, dark furred wolves. Daciana shrieked, pulling her children closer towards her, and Larina felt her stomach twist in fear. They came to a stop before the Justiciar before rolling onto their backs, everyone waiting in anticipation. The Justiciar sighed and from her angle, Larina could see he had clenched his jaw.

Turning to her uncle he spoke, “my apologies Jarl Igmund, my predecessor informed me you were welcoming of dogs in your Keep and my girls can’t bear to be on their own. They were to wait by the gate until I had asked for your permission of course” he waited for a response from the Jarl. Now closer, Larina could see they were somewhat smaller than wolves, and were obviously a mixed breed but nonetheless they were bigger than any dog that roamed the servants quarters in the Keep. Laughing, somewhat nervously, as his wife gave him an angry glance the Jarl gestured to them with a wave of his hand.

“No it's quite alright, please bring them along and I will make sure the servants find provisions for them”. Herding his wife with a hand on her back, the Jarl continued to head inside and the rest of the nobles began to follow him. Larina watched as the new Justiciar clicked his fingers and the dogs stood upright, following closely on his heel.

“ _What a strange fellow”_ Thonar whispered in her ear, and it took all her might not to shriek like her aunt. “My apologies'' he smirked, still maintaining his too close proximity. “I did not mean to startle you” and he gestured for her to continue ahead. Hitching her skirts, Larina quickened her pace to catch up with the others, not wanting to be left with him too long. 

Ahead she could see the Justiciar conversing with her uncle but could not hear what he said, before he followed after the steward to find his room. Everyone began to disband, leaving to whatever duties they had planned before the welcome meal this evening: Daciana stopped her by grabbing her arm again. **_One of these days_** Larina thought **_I’ll tell her to get her hands off me_** but she knew she’d never have the courage to say it. “I’m just checking that you _actually_ delivered those flowers to the Justiciar’s room?” Daciana looked her niece up and down.

“Of course I did” Larina rebuked, almost a little too fiercely.

Daciana smirked at her response, “I’m just _checking_ my dear, as you proved this morning you are _rather_ forgetful” Larina could hear Edurne snickering behind her mother and bit her tongue. ‘My apologies” Larina dropped her gaze to the floor, hoping her aunt would believe her and leave her alone. Her wish was granted as Daciana brushed her off with a wave of her hand and shepherded Edurne towards the hot house. It wasn’t worth following after them to retrieve her stashed flowers and so instead Larina headed towards the laboratory. 

As she joined the two altmers, Larina noted that they were deep in their work, none the wiser to the events that had taken place outside. She wondered why they had not joined them, granted their work was important but she was sure they could have paused it for the brief hour they had spent greeting the new Justiciar. Sliding into a chair across from Calcelmo, she cleared her throat to gently gain his attention. He clearly had not seen her enter and she did not want him to risk losing his place in the notes he was reading. “ _Ah Larina,_ I was wondering when you might show up” the old mer smiled, setting down his notes. “Come Aicantar, don’t you want to hear about our new Justiciar?” even from where she was sat Larina could see him rolling his eyes, but he set down his work and joined them nonetheless.

“Actually Calcelmo, I have a question first” Larina got up out of her chair to lean her weight onto his desk. “Why weren’t you both there?”. 

Calcelmo looked at her in confusion, “I _thought_ you knew?” he replied but judging by the expression on her face, he knew it was not the case. “The Jarl requested we save our meeting with the Justiciar until later, he has invited us to dine with you all and discuss our research with him after with drinks”. Larina could not understand her uncle’s decision and seeing the expression on her face, Calcelmo pulled her out of her thoughts. “I think it would be nice for an evening for us to take a break out of our work, but Aicantar does not seem to agree”.

Larina turned to the younger mer and chided him, “You’re always working late Aicanater, it will be nice to see you and your uncle for a few more hours… plus you can save me from their boring conversations” she laughed. Finally for one evening she would be able to indulge in conversations _she_ liked, even if they had to indulge the new Justiciar first. 

Aicantar sighed and returned to his desk, and hearing him clattering away, Calcelmo turned to her again. “So tell me….what happened when he arrived?” Larina was surprised with his interest and indulged him nonetheless.

“Nothing spectacular really, he arrived with the Thalmor soldiers, escorted by the Legate although he wasn’t wearing his uniform” Larina could tell by the look on Calcelmo’s face that he was equally surprised by that. “But he was dressed quite finely” she continued “he was quiet but polite although his dogs did scare Daciana” the thought made her smile slightly. The twinge of guilt of seeing her aunt’s fear was diminished when she remembered the deliberate embarrassment she had tried to cause her. As Calcelmo began to continue his work, Larina hunted for some paper and charcoal to assist him, worried that if she appeared workless he might ask her to leave early. 

Clearly sensing some frustration in her, he kept her busy with enough requirements and reworkings to keep her occupied until early evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'm making these chapters too long? After I saw how long chapter one appeared on here I decided to split Chapter two into two parts - hopefully the break makes sense where it does and doesn't ruin the progress of the story!


	4. Wolves and Wildflowers

“I think it's time we finish uncle and get ready for the meal” Aicantar interrupted them, realising how much time had passed Larina stretched herself upright, the bones of her spine cracking into place.

“I do wish you would not do that'' Aicantar shuddered as he added his work journal into his satchel.

“Are you both dressing up this evening?” Larina smiled, wondering if they’d remain in their robes.

Aicantar nodded, “We can’t exactly wear these dusty things at the dinner table, I know what your aunt is like'' it was the first time in a few days that Larina had seen him smile. “But we’ll probably wear something similar I would assume”. Larina nodded and assisted Calcelmo in putting the last few of his odds and ends away.

“I guess I’ll see you later” Larina smiled, leaving the laboratory with a skip in her step. 

  
  


She hadn’t walked far when she heard the uncomfortable sound of barking and whining; rushing around the corner, Larina found Voada’s hound Eli shrinking away from the Justiciar’s wolves. As Larina ascended the steps to the servants quarters in an attempt to break them apart, Eli shrunk behind her, cowering. “Come now little beasts, I’m sure we can all be friends' ' Larina spoke gently, in an attempt to calm them all down. The wolves continued to bare their teeth and growl lowly but made no movement towards her. She extended her hand slowly for them to sniff, only for the large of the two to snap its jaw mere inches from her hand. Panicking, Larina stumbled back against a stone table, cringing into herself as the beast prowled slowly forward. 

“ **_Potema_ ** '' a voice harshly called, and the wolf dropped to the floor on her stomach. Opening her eyes, Larina saw the new Justiciar standing at the top of the stairs flanked by a soldier. He dismissed them with a hand before heading down the stairs towards her; he snapped his fingers and _Potema_ returned to his side, only to be berated in what she assumed to be Elvish.

Larina watched her head as the dog cowed its head and whined in response. Righting herself, Larina stepped forward and awkwardly stammered “its ok...please don’t tell her off _too_ harshly. I can’t imagine they’re used to their new environment yet..” his eyes lazily flicked to her face and Larina felt herself flush in embarrassment, was she really standing up for the wolf?.

“If I don’t punish her then she’ll think behaviour is acceptable and _will_ continue” he drawled.

“I guess that’s what you get for calling her after the Wolf Queen'' Larina awkwardly joked hoping to break the tension only to be met with a dry “ _quite_ ”.

Looking around only to see that Eli had fled, Larina bobed a curtsy and passed him to head up the stairs.

“Wait a moment…” wondering if she was about to be berated, Larina turned on the spot to face him. “Extend your hand to them again, they won’t bite whilst I’m here” his words did nothing to alleviate her fear and she realised he already watched her failed attempt and clumsy reaction to their ferocity. With no other excuse to mind, Larina gently extended her shaking hands forward to them again. The bigger wolf-dog, Potema, looked to her owner hesitantly before he flicked his wrist slightly forward: she moved forward and sniffed her hand, Larina froze to the spot. Accepting her scent, the wolf moved forward more bumping her head against Larina’s hand, and taking her queue the smaller wolf followed suit. A nervous smile broke across Larina’s face as she began to fuss them, kneeling on the ground more comfortably to do so. The wolves collapsed against her, allowing her hands to run through their fur. Larina instinctively looked up at the Justiciar only to find him regarding her with disinterest. She dropped her gaze, wondering how foolish she must look.

“What is the smaller one called?” she asked, rubbing its stomach as its tongue lolled out of its mouth, **_so much for big, scary wolf-dogs_** , she mused.

“ _Hircine '' he_ responded, clicking his fingers, the wolves jumped upright and returned to his side. He extended his hand to help her up to her feet but Larina shook her head opting to pull herself up on the stone table.

“They are beautiful creatures'' Larina smiled and the Justiciar looked her up and down.

“They don’t usually take well to strangers, but I guess you are the exception” Larina was pleasantly surprised by his words and watched as he turned on heels and headed back to the east _wing_ of the Keep. 

Brushing the clumps of fur that had attached to her skirts, Larina rushed back to her rooms in order to freshen up before their evening meal. She had been surprised to see him wandering the Keep as she imagined he still needed time to rest and settle himself in, let alone sorting his soldiers out in their accommodations. But she was glad to pet the wolves at least. 

  
  
  
As Larina rushed down the hallway to her room, she bumped into Voada carrying a basket of fresh linen under her arm. “By the _divine_ where have you been? The rest of them are heading down to the dining room _now_ ” Voada informed her, too busy to stop. **_By the gods_ **, Larina groaned, she had clearly lost track of time with the wolves before. Rushing into her room, she realised she had no time to change her dress, so quickly washed her face and freshened up. She reached for the barely used glass bottle off her shelf and dabbed some scented oil on her wrists and her neck - Calcelmo had shown her how to make it with the flowers she could take without notice from the hot house, now more than ever she was grateful of it. Knowing that the rest of her family would have probably changed for the evening, the only thing she could do in time to change her appearance to let her hair down. Removing the pins and the fabric from before, her brunette hair fell in waves down her back, and Larina quickly ran comb through it to ease some of the bigger curls. Satisfied with her appearance in the looking glass, Larina darted out of her room and headed to the dinning hall, hoping they had not already started…


	5. A Gift of Silver

Luckily, by the time Larina had arrived, they had only begun seating themselves in an arrangement clearly designed by the steward, as he shepherded them into their seats. The Jarl had been placed at the head of the table, with his wife to the left of him and the steward to the right: next to Daciana, Hrókr was seated with his sister opposite. Larina was guided to her seat next to Edurne, only to find the Justiciar had been seated opposite her. He looked no different from the morning, still dressed head to toe in black, only now his cape had been replaced with a thin, black coat lined with silver detail. She noticed a silver brooch pinned to his lapel but caught his gaze as she stared, feeling her cheeks flush, Larina dropped her gaze.

As they filed into the room, Larina was happy to see that Calcelmo had been seated next to her and Aicantar opposite, **_an evening of cultural conversation AND I get to avoid Thonar_ ** , she mused to herself with a smile. She noted a disgruntled look upon his face as he and his daughter were seated alongside the mer, Larina was surprised to see that Thongvar had also joined them - though he was _always_ present for their evening of drinks afterwards, he seldom ever made it to the dining table. The Silver-Smith family were the last to be seated at the end of the table, but Larina could not tell from their expressions if this annoyed them or not. 

Soon servants arrived at their side, filling everyone’s goblets with wine - including her cousins which Larina could not take as a good sign. Taking his goblet in his hand, the Jarl stood up and cleared his throat. “I would like to raise a toast and welcome our new Justiciar” Larina could not help but clench her draw, this was all starting to seem over the top now, but still the table raised their goblets and welcomed the new Justiciar to Markarth. As the Jarl sat down the table took it as a sign to start tucking into the hot dishes that were spread out across the table: a with a variety of meals, and spotting her favourites, Larina was quite happy that this extravagance had extended itself to a feast, and she added some smoked salmon, grilled leeks and potatoes to her plate. Even before she forked her first mouthful in her stomach began to grumble and she remembered that she had completely forgotten lunch whilst working in the laboratory. 

Adding several pieces of chicken to his plate the Jarl decided to ask “Corrilian, if there’s any dish you _prefer_ to eat in the city please feel free to ask!” It was the first time so far Larina had heard _anyone_ refer to the Justiciar by his first name. “Our cook Anton is _always_ for a reason to experiment” her uncle hadn’t even closed his mouth as he ate, Larina noted, cringing slightly.

“I am quite partial to fish, but apart from that I am not fussy” he responded dryly and took a sip of his wine: though his expression were minimal, Larina was still quick to catch the flash of disgust on his face at the taste, and as she turned to catch Calcelmo’s eye she realised he had caught it too. 

“The Legate tells me you hail from quite far inland in the Summerset Isles, Corrilian” her aunt asked, taking a sip of her wine. Tonight would be no different from the rest, and Larina knew her aunt would mostly partake in a liquid dinner.

“Indeed” the altmer responded, turning to face her “from Skywatch, a city overlooking the sea. When I arrived here in Skyrim it was via Solitude, a pleasant view but it does not compare” Larina was quite pleased to see her aunt had no response. Remembering her uncle’s words from the night before, she wondered if they were going to suck up to him all night. 

As the table continued its idle conversation, the Justiciar declined the refilling of his glass and turned to face Calcelmo and asked “I’m afraid we have not been introduced yet, you are?”. Calcelmo cast a quick glance at the Jarl before responding.

“I am the Jarl’s Court Mage, Calcelmo, my nephew and I had planned on joining the others this morning at your arrival but well… duty calls'' he shrugged, looking towards his nephew.

Aicantar cleared his throat and spoke, “It was mostly my fault I am afraid, I have recently discovered a new piece of technology from the ruins of _Nchuand-Zel_ and it is still quite temperamental and in need of observance. But we are quite lucky, we have the support of the Jarl here to fund our research into the ruins”. Larina noted her uncle smiled at the flattery.

“You see Corrilian'' her uncle interrupted, “Markarth was built entirely by the Dwemer and into the mountainside, making it quite a safe refuge! I am quite fortunate that these pair are quite interested in the ruins and can help us understand the technology they left behind and _perhaps_ even utilise it”. Larina had never heard her uncle express an interest in the Dwemer ruins before but perhaps these were conversations she had missed before her arrival. 

“We are also quite lucky that we have the young Larina to assist us too” Calcelmo included, and Larina shrunk into her chair as she felt the Justiciar’s gaze upon her.

“How so?” he asked. Calcelmo took a sip of his wine, clearing missing the look of annoyance on Daciana’s face that Larina had spotted, and continued.

“Well I discovered she has quite the talent at sketching and technical drawing, far more superior to myself or my nephew, she sketches our findings for us so I can include them in my journal and perhaps a publication!”. Larina could not hide her smile in the pride Calcelmo held in her work but knew she would feel the wrath of Daciana’s annoyance for it later. At least for now the table returned to its conversation as everyone continued their meals, the effect of fullness filling them. 

As the servants came to collect their plates, the Jarl turned to the Justiciar once more. “After our meal we tend to retire to the Great Hall to converse, drink and smoke until we either fall asleep or bored” her uncle laughed, rising from his seat and signalling the table to follow suit. The Justiciar remained silent but trailed after her uncle, Larina followed the rest of the table until her aunt caught her arm and pulled her to one side.

“You better watch yourself _foolish girl_ ” Daciana chided “you have no real place in this court and you _won't_ feign one now” she let go over Larina’s arm with a flick of her wrist and marched forward to the others. As Larina caught up she saw that Calcelmo had lingered in the doorway, and she could tell from his expression what he was going to say.

Dismissing him with a wave of her hand, Larina sighed “ _don’t ask_ ”. 

As they joined the others, Larina noticed that rather than sitting in their usual individual groups, they had all gathered around the largest table with the ladies and their children seated around the Justiciar. Larina hovered behind Kerah who offered her a glass of wine, which she accepted. Calcelmo stood beside her, waiting to see what was about to happen; Thonar had revealed a box from his pocket and offered it to the Justiciar. “A gift for your arrival from both the Silver-Blood and Silver-Smith families” he bowed slightly at his statement before gesturing to the box, Larina watched as the Justiciar opened it, revealing a silver ring garnished with a sapphire. The Justiciar thanked him, slipping it on to his left thumb - the only finger wide enough on his long, slim hands to fit it. “It is made from the silver from my mine and crafted by Endon, you will see Justiciar that our silver jewellry is the finest in Skyrim” Thonar could not hide his smugness and Larina knew he was only cosying up to the Justiciar in the hope of expanding his trade. 

Larina had not noticed his absence, but the steward returned with a heavy looking brown bottle and a servant carrying a tray of fine glasses. “The Jarl suggested we crack open a bottle of our finest brandy, imported all the way from Cyrodiil if you are interested Justiciar?” Larina turned to Calcelmo and raised her eyebrows, her uncle never missed a chance to show off his affluence.

“I _never_ say no to brandy” it was the first time Larina had seen the Justiciar smile, his teeth straight and white, reminding her of his wolves. The steward filled and distributed the glasses amongst the men who had begun lighting their pipes: the Steward had offered to fetch the Justiciar one to join them but he politely declined. Noticing her standing beside the table, the Justiciar rose and offered Larina his seat, she had half a mind to refuse but he insisted and began conversing with Calcelmo about his research. 

Sliding into the seat next to Kerah, Larina feigned interest in their conversation, straining her ears to hear what the Justiciar was asking Calcelmo. Noticing his absence from their side, the steward interrupted them, hoping to bring him back to their conversations of business. “Ah Justiciar! You asked earlier on if it was safe enough for you to walk the city with your dogs in the morning?” the Justiciar did not look pleased that his conversation had been interrupted but nodded all the same. “Might I suggest you receive a tour tomorrow? You will see that our city is _quite_ safe although it is somewhat labyrinthine.”

The Justiciar paused a moment before nodding. “Yes that does sound ideal however I do have some plans that involve you all tomorrow” at his words the table grew silent, listening intently to what he was about to say. “I will need a few moments of your time, to meet with you individually to ask some questions. Nothing formal of course but I would rather be honest and open with you about my work rather than discovering it behind your backs” he looked rather bored by his words but Larina knew it would cause unease in some of the people sat at the table. “I would be more than happy to then explore the city afterwards with a guide” he finished his brandy in a large sip and gestured for the servant to refill his glass. 

“I am sure that will not be a problem” the steward looked around at the rest of the nobles, waiting to see a hint of disent. “And I am sure either Hrókr or Edurne will be happy to get some fresh air and show you their father’s domain”. 

“ **_No_ ** ” Daciana’s outburst was loud and unrestrained, a result of all the wine she had been drinking, Larina bit her lip waiting to see how the rest of them would react. Her aunt turned to the Jarl, making no effort to hide her anger. “ _You_ promised me that _they_ would never leave the Keep after what happened last time! Even escorted by guards I _will not_ allow it” Daciana’s eyes blazed, daring her husband to contradict her in front of the court. Larina was with them the day they had been allowed a long walk into the city and she had hoped to sneak away and visit the alchemists shop, only to be stopped in their tracks by the assassination of a traveller in the square by a Reachman. Hrókr had paled and fainted on the spot, nearly trampled by citizens running in fear or attempting to catch the murderer. They had been quickly rushed back up the hill, Larina almost sick from the speed in which they were hustled back up the stairs. For months afterward they were trapped in the Keep, the Jarl fearful of losing any of them to a madman. They grieved too when Thonar’s wife was assassinated, only for a passing adventurer to discover the reason for the attack and Thonar’s involvement with the Forsworn leader, Madanach. He had been punished well enough with the death of his wife (though Larina was suspicious of his lack of grieving) and a large fine from the Jarl. Her uncle could not afford more enemies and the loss of Markarth’s main source of commerce. Madanach had attempted a prison break and revolution, but his cards had been revealed too early, the revolution was quashed and Madanach was executed in the square - a warning to all the citizens of Markarth. 

The steward cleared his throat, hoping to detract attention from Daciana and the Jarl. “What about Larina? I am sure she would not mind a day out from the laboratory - you’re always complaining that you are never allowed out to walk ey?” all their eyes gathered on her and she wished she could sink through the floor.

“As long as Calcelmo and Aicantar won't need me for a few hours?” she turned to face Calcelmo hoping that he could see the pleading in her eyes and insist that he needed her for work. But the old mer simply shook his head, leaving her to her fate. Larina knew her aunt would not care if it was dangerous for her to walk in the street unlike her children, and accepted her role as tour guide for the afternoon.

“I suggest then” the Justiciar interrupted “that I meet with her last so we can begin the tour after, if that’s quite alright?” his eyes bored in hers and she desperately wanted to drop hers to the floor, but fearing being impolite she nodded and agreed. 

“That’s settled then'' the steward clapped his hands and helped refill some glasses, “now, let's continue drinking!”. The table returned to their conversations and Larina declined the refilling of her glass, she was already beginning to get a headache. Drifting in and out of conversation, she hoped she could convince her aunt of letting her retire early and asked permission to leave. She didn’t think her aunt had fully heard her question but heard a sound somewhat like agreement and took her leave. Larina left via the hot house, happy to see that her aunt had not discovered her stash of flowers and took them back with her to her room. Her mind raced too much to already sink into bed and so she lit a few candles and began pressing her flowers. 

Larina changed and got into bed bringing a book with her to read until she felt sleepy, but realised soon after that she was just reading the same page again and again. Her mind was still racing about the _tour_ and her meeting in the morning. She sighed, too lazy to get out of bed and blow out her candles, sinking lower into her pillows and waited for sleep to take her. 


	6. A Personal Dossier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larina finally has a meeting with the new Justiciar on her own and he asks a few questions about her past...

Larina awoke that morning to the sound of frantic pounding on her bedroom door: she scrambled out of bed, almost slipping on her blanket in the process, threw on a gown to cover herself and answered the door. She was met by a flustered Voada who instantly shoved her breakfast tray into her arms. 

“Goodness Voada, whatever is the matter?” Larian murmured, bleary eyed and confused. 

“You’ve slept in” she sighed in response “I came to wake you an hour ago to no response and assumed it was due to the late night, I came back ten minutes ago to try again and heard nothing! This isn’t like you…” a look of concern flashed across the Breton’s face.

Larina yawned sleepily, “it _was_ a late night, I drank more wine than I was expecting and ate a lot of food, I thought you were going to tell me I had missed my meeting with the Justiciar”. Even in her tired state, Larina could tell something about her words annoyed the older woman. 

“I have a _lot_ of things to deal with Larina, not just waking you, I have meals to prepare, orders that the Justiciar has requested to be imported in - which has caused no end of bellyaching from Anton, I tell you that!” Voada gesticulated angrily. 

Larina felt sheepish, she knew it was not a necessary task for Voada to wake her every morning and as much as she appreciated it, she knew it was probably eating into the time dedicated to her other chores. “I _am_ sorry Voada, is there anything I can do to help?”. The woman squeezed her arm kindly and shook her head. 

“Even if you could dear it would not be allowed, _you_ know that but maybe... there is something you can do for me” the older Breton paused for a moment, thinking. 

“Of course!” Larina smiled before blinking tiredly. 

“Perhaps you could take Eli with you on your walk today? She really does need to stretch her legs outside the Keep poor thing, and I certainly have no time”. Larina nodded in agreement, it was not a secret in the Keep how much she loved that _mutt_. 

“Another thing dear” Voada continued “try those... _thingies_ in the bowl there, it was something the Justiciar brought with him and requested Anton order more off. Luckily for you he suggested serving them to everyone for breakfast”. Larina looked down at her tray and noticed the items Voada had pointed at: peculiarly brown and oddly shaped, they sat in a little wooden bowl that Voada had provided. 

“What _on_ Tamriel are they?” Larina quizzed her, confused. 

“No idea my dear, but enjoy!” Voada waved to her and before down the hallway. 

Knowing that her entire schedule was now free and her meeting with the Justiciar was not until just before Midday, Larina decided to treat herself to a leisurely morning. Her breakfast consisted of a few pieces of bread and a pot of honey, a small decanter of weak honey mead, a small apple and the strange breakfast item that Voada had informed her about. Larina poured herself a glass and decided to keep her gown on in case there was a chill and headed for her balcony. One of her favourite places in the Keep, her balcony was only small enough to seat a small cushion rather than a chair and Larina had to place her tray on the floor before her, but it was worth it for that view of the Reach. Very few of the rooms in Understone had a window, let alone a small balcony and she was always confused that they were the least favourable rooms here but at least she did not have to compete for this small luxury of sun on her face and the distant sound of birdsong in the mountains. 

Larina spread some honey on her bread and took a bite, a simple breakfast but her favourite and enjoyed her view. She wasn’t exactly too excited to try this _new_ , strange dish and waited to leave it to last in case it tasted awful and ruined her appetite. After finishing her bread and her apple, Larina took a sip of her drink to cleanse her palette and picked up one of the strange things. She was surprised that it was slightly soft and giving it a sniff, gave off a mild, sweet scent. Holding it up to her mouth, Larina took a small bite, her teeth sinking into its flesh, and was surprised by its sweetness. Enjoying its sticky texture, it took a few bites before she realised there was a stone in the middle, almost swallowing it. Careful to avoid them in the others, she greedily continued, enjoying their taste. Whatever they were, she was impressed and glad that the Justiciar had brought them with him. She hoped that she could work up the courage to ask him what they were, to make polite conversation if she could think of nothing else but if needs be, she knew she could ask Voada what he ordered. 

Carefully standing up, to prevent tumbling over the wall of her balcony - that unfortunately only rose to just before her waist, Larina returned inside with her tray. Placing it on her table near the door, Larina returned to her bed and made it whilst she decided on what she would wear for the day. She knew she was expected to wear something appropriate and befitting of her place in the court, but it needed to be practical if she was going to be walking around the city. Larina hated the thought of climbing all those stairs, but at least she was getting out of the Keep. Riffling through her wardrobe, Larina decided that she would wear what she once wore on her long journey to Skyrim, a white linen smock and brown kirtle and lay them on her bed, hoping they would still fit. 

She filled the basin by her looking glass with water and washed her face, regarding her reflection, a face almost corpse pale stared back at her. There was a time where she looked healthy and kissed by the sun, but the few years she had spent stuck in this mountain were starting to take its toll. Her hair had once been thick and not quite the right type of curly, and whilst it was manageable back in High Rock, surrounded by constant steam in the laboratory made her look like she had been struck by lightning. Her only way to fix her appearance was to consistently pin up on her head or in a braid. But she really needed to do something about her pallor and the growing shadows in her eyes. 

Pulling on a pair of thin woollen hose, Larina dressed in her clothes, glad that although they were a little tight, they still fit. She opted for a pair of comfortable brown boots, that she knew her aunt could not comment on as it was concealed by the skirt of her kirtle and her dark green hooded cloak that had lasted longer than it needed. Larina quickly combed through her hair, discovering that it was a useless attempt after she forgot to braid it the night before, and tied it on top of her head. A few curled whisps hung down but she hoped they looked alright. 

Flinging her cloak over her arm, Larina gathered her breakfast tray and headed out of her room, hoping that by returning it to the kitchen she would save Voada a job, but hopefully not get either of them into trouble. Descending the staircase to the ground floor, Larina walked round to the kitchens, glad so far that she had not bumped into anyone and quickened her pace not to chance her luck. Placing her tray on the table she accidentally surprised Voada who jokingly flicked her cloth at her.

“ _You_ should not be here! Best not let Anton see you otherwise it will be both our necks!”. Larina grinned and threw a crust of bread to Eli who lingered by the hearth in hopes of scraps. 

“I’ll come collect her once my meeting is over” Larina smiled, giving the hound a fuss. Turning to leave, Larina paused for a moment in the threshold before turning back to Voada. 

“Oh, by the way, I tried those _things_ earlier on, I don’t know what they are but they’re exquisite!” Voada raised her eyebrows in surprise but said not a word before Larina turned back down the hallway. 

Hearing the familiar hum of Calcelmo’s laboratory, Larina paused for a moment wondering if she had time to quickly pop in and see what they were up to. 

“Do you really think it would be worth it, when you’ve _clearly_ made an effort to look nice” her aunt drawled, giving her a spiteful look. She turned, finding Daciana stood behind her, arms clasped behind her back. **_This damned woman always turns up to surprise me_** Larina thought, mentally comparing her aunt’s presence to a restless wraith. 

“I’m not quite sure what you mean?” Larina genuinely asked, confused as to why her aunt might perceive her old, travelling clothes as fashionable arraignment.

“I’m just saying you look... _nice_ ” Daciana’s reply rather curiously “you wouldn’t want to ruin your appearance by going in _there_ ” the way she referred to the laboratory irked Larina but she held her tongue. “ Remember at all times, you're representing the _Jarl_ ” Daciana smirked, linking Larina into her arm and dragging her towards the soldiers' quarters and away from the laboratory. 

“ _Now_ …” Daciana continued, quickening her step slightly “the rest of us have already had our meetings, he’s speaking with Thonar last and then it's _you_ my dear”. 

**_Great_ ** , she thought, **_there’s no chance of avoiding that...skeever at all_ **, Larina suppressed her groan. Curiosity got the better of her, and Larina asked. “So what exactly did the Justiciar want to talk to you about?”. Daciana stopped before a stone bench and gestured for her niece to sit down. 

“Well you’ll find out in a moment” she shrugged and left with a sly smile.

So, Larina waited on the stone bench, with the minutes passing, waiting for Thonar’s meeting to end and hoping to the divines that he had some important business to attend to and would leave straight away: but when his sight caught her sat there as he was leaving, she knew it wouldn’t be the case. 

“He’s a very inquisitive fellow…” Thonar informed her “if a little _strange_ ” Larina did not want to indulge his remark and remained silent. Unphased by her lack of a response, Thonar offered her his hand to rise and she reluctantly accepted it, his grip holding her for longer than necessary. 

“You know the streets are still a _little_ unsafe...I could accompany you and our Justiciar, for safety _of course_ ” Larina suppressed her shudder and shook her head. 

“We will be accompanied by the Thalmor soldiers and an Imperial guard” she politely declined through gritted teeth “and I would not want to impede on your work” hoping that he would hear her comment as flattery rather sarcasm. 

“You are a sweet thing” he squeezed her hand tightly before letting it drop, and she had to repress the urge to let it fall to her to her side with a snap. “I _will_ see you at dinner this evening” and Larina waited until he rounded the corner and rolled her eyes. 

Typica of her luck it was at that moment, the Justiciar opened his door and regarded her strange facial reaction with perplexity. “I _hope_ I’m not interrupting anything?” he enquired, Larina’s face flushed red and she shook her head, feeling a fool. This morning he was dressed in the robes she had expected him to wear on his arrival, minus the hood. Black clearly suited him, Larina thought, and he clearly knew it, making him look sophisticated and imposing.

He gestured for her to follow him inside. Larina had never stepped foot in the office when Ondolemar resided as their Justiciar and curiosity got the better of her as she crossed into the room. It was circular in shape, with his large, wooden desk positioned in front of the window and the almost midday sun onto it, illuminating a small stack of books, a small journal with quill, a silver cup and a bowl. Looking around the room Larina noted that on the left side was a small fireplace, with the fire unlit, with a dwemer vase positioned above and flanked either side by shelves filled with books, and gems. The otherside of the room had a Thalmor banner positioned in the middle and caught in the light, Larina spotted a case with a dagger in on the left hand side. Larina wondered whether the room had changed since the new Justiciar took over. 

The Justiciar allowed her some time to take in the surroundings before gesturing to the open chair before his desk, Larina seated herself, not wanting to take up too much of his time. Taking his seat, the Justiciar opened the journal and from her position, Larina could see that it was blank, not looking up from the page as he began to write, he spoke,

“I assure you that the questions that I am going to ask you are the same that I have asked _everyone_ in the Keep” he finished his writing and brought his gaze up to her, and she felt nervous under his eyesight. 

“What exactly are you going to ask me?” Larina enquired, hoping she didn’t sound nervous. 

Setting down his quill, the Justiciar lent back in his chair, arms resting on the sides and his fingers steepled. 

“Details about yourself, your life before _and_ after your arrival in Markarth, and then I will keep it updated” he could see from her reaction that she was confused and reached for the journal. Holding it up, he continued “ _this_ is a dossier, and there will be one on _every_ member of the Jarl’s court in Markarth, including the Jarl himself. My predecessor already had notes on all of you, that I have already read, but I also like to make my own notes on my work”. The Justiciar set it back down on the desk, Larina nodded showing her understanding and he picked up his quill and asked “why don’t you start with your name, day of birth and origin?”. 

“Ok…” Larina responded, hoping her voice would not come out as a stammer but felt relieved when his gaze dropped to the journal, ready to write her words.

“My name is Larina Devereaux, I was born on the tenth night of Sun’s Dusk in the 183rd year of the fourth empire” she stated, feeling strange to mention her birth year.

“No _Silver_ in your name?” he asked, not looking up. Larina paused for a moment in confusion

“What do you mean?”

Looking up at her he replied “There is no Silver in your name, so what is your relation to the Jarl?” Larina felt stupid, it was a pretty obvious question.

“Oh...well the Jarl’s wife, Daciana, is my mother’s sister and -” She could not finish her sentence before she was interrupted. “Your aunt did not mention it…” the Justiciar did not break his gaze from her and she began to feel a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“What did she say?” Larina asked, wondering why her aunt felt it unnecessary to even briefly explain their relationship. 

“You were the Jarl’s ward, taken in after your parents died…” it was mostly the truth and an acceptable answer, but still left Larina feeling hurt. 

“So tell me about your family” he asked, returning to the journal. 

It had been a while since she had spoken about them and she felt almost strange doing so, but continued. 

“I was born in Jehanna where I am aware my mother and my aunt were originally from but they moved to a small town called Rockreath. I lived there until my parents death and then was sent back to my grandmother in Jehanna before being sent here” it was strange to remember her home again, most of those memories were too painful now and had been pushed to the back of her mind. 

“What happened to your parents?” he asked dryly and Larina sighed before she continued. 

“Murdered, there was a raid I _think_ or something in the town, by the divine I was lucky to have missed it: I did not see my grandmother often and I was sent to visit her. I was there when I heard what happened to the town, farms raided, homes burnt and my parents...well dead”. Larina was surprised by how matter of fact she sounded. 

“And the rest of your family? Why were you sent here and not to them?” he asked and it was something Larina frequently found herself asking. 

“I have an older brother, Sebastian, who fights for the Empire but I have not heard from him in years” logic precluded that he had probably died, but since no one had officially informed her otherwise, she continued to hold hope for him. “My grandmother was too elderly and did not want to waste my years with caring for her, though I would have been happy to do so, my parents had cut off all contact with the rest of our family - I never learnt why and assumed it was the reason for our move, Daciana is the last family I have, I arrived here four years ago and have been in Markarth since”. **_Until my brother comes for me_ **, Larina had not thought that sentiment in years, it was what got her through her first, tear filled nights in Markarth but as she grew to realise that he had probably died and she was stuck here, she let it go. 

“You'll pardon my indelicacy” he asked, bringing his gaze upon her again, “but for your age I am surprised the Jarl has not seen you married yet, is that not Nordic custom for girls younger than you are now?”. Larina raised her eyebrows, it was rather blunt but he was right, she was reaching her eighteenth year and by Skyrim’s customs she should have been married before now, but there was one thing that stood in her way and of which she was thankful for. “My position in my uncle - I mean the _Jarl’s_ court means I have to wait until my cousin Edurne is married first”. He nodded and noted it down. 

“So how exactly do you spend your free time?” he enquired, Larina was certain he would have known about her involvement with Calcelmo. 

“Walk along the city walls...when I can” She responded, but it had been such a long time since that. “But mostly sketching the research that Calcelmo and Aicantar work on, I find it good practice and am quite fascinated by the Dwemer technology, though I don’t really understand it. Apart from that I guess reading”. They sat in silence for a few moments, the sound of the quill scratching on parchment sounding unusually loud. 

“Is… is there anything else you would like to know about Justiciar?” Larina asked, wondering what else he needed information on and its preciseness.

The Justiciar paused for a moment and Larina could see the same muscles clench in his jaw the morning he arrived. She realised what she thought was anger was clearly him deep in thought. 

“Yes… just inform me what your parents did whilst they were alive and who your family worshipped and I think that is it.” his gaze dropped back to the dossier and Larina caught herself feeling _strange_ , she was starting to feel less nervous under it and fascinated by how _golden_ they were. 

“My mother was a member of the lower nobility” Larina replied, “and my father worked as a mage, he gained his education here in Skyrim at the College of Winterhold and worked in Cyrodiil for a number of years before heading to Jehanna where he met my mother.” Larina often wondered if this was where Daciana’s resentment to her grew from. Though she knew that her mother’s family were not renowned members of the nobility, they still had a place in society, and Daciana’s was greatly improved when she married the Jarl of Markarth. It would not be a surprise if in her eyes marrying a _simple_ mage, especially with her views on magicka, would be considered marrying down. 

“When we moved to Rockreath they ran a farm and my father grew plants for his potions that he sold in the town, he was planning to open a shop before they died.” Larina continued, remembering her little home, their farm was not exactly big compared to what else could be found in the village and the ground was not arable enough to grow crops like everyone else: but her father had discovered that a variety of wildflowers, poisonous and safe, grew there, and cultivated his own alchemiac garden. He’d even shown her how to grow a range of mushrooms, it wasn’t easy at first and they certainly weren’t as pretty as the flowers, but Larina loved it. She missed the simplicity of the village, of their little home, there was no court intrigue there, no cruel games played on one another. But there were no large parties, no fancy arraignment, it truly was a simpler life - and now Larina caught herself wondering if her mother truly enjoyed it. 

Larina continued “He had spent a number of years trying to convince my mother to send us to Winterhold for our education, it was something he was quite proud of, I think he was disappointed when Sebastian joined the army but never said anything” she wondered if her brother had heard of their parents death. “And we worshipped Julianos and Kynareth, I brought my mother’s small altarpiece to Kynareth with me here”. 

As she finished babbling Larina saw that the Justiciar had laid down his quill, had she rambled on too much. She was struck with the startling fear that maybe she had over-shared a bit _too_ much.?

“There’s nothing more I really need to ask you” the Justiciar responded and closed the journal, moving it to one side. “If there’s any questions you have I’ll answer, depending on what they are”. Larina thought for a moment on what she had to say, there were a few questions that burned in her mind, he had mentioned that he visited Solitude and there was something she wanted to ask. 

“You said you arrived in Solitude first, did you visit the Blue Palace? Is it true Jarl Elisif’s court wizard is a vampire?” Larina had heard the rumours and was curious to know. 

The Justiciar paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing before he spoke. “I meant about my work...is there any clarification needed?”.

“Oh…” Larina’s eyes widened slightly realising her mistake and felt like a total, local fool. The very second after meeting someone distinctly _not_ from Markarth and she has to act like a pestering idiot. “No Justiciar, I am aware of your role from your predecessor’s work, you’re an ambassador on behalf of the Dominion and work to eradicate the worship of Talos in Skyrim” hopefully nothing that would involve her. 

“Quite” the Justiciar responded, waiting a moment before continuing. “My title is only expected of those who work for me, like the rest of the court you are welcome to call me by my name, Corrilian” his eyes caught her gaze again and Laria felt her cheeks flush.

**_Corrilian_ **. 

She was sure it would be strange to say, too impersonal to fall off her tongue but the sound of it was so enthralling. But Larina nodded all the same. Rising from his chair the Justiciar gestured to the door. As she stood up Larina noticed that in the bowl on his desk were the same peculiar things she had this morning: pointing at them she asked “what are they? I had some with breakfast and well… they were delicious”. The Justiciar peered over the shoulder, noticing what she was pointing and replied

“Well… you are the first today to ask about them” that look filled his face again and Larina drank it in. “They’re dates from Hammerfell, I am surprised you have not tasted them before. There are some luxuries I am afraid I can’t live without” Larina half expected him to shrug but he remained poised. “I gave the cook here the details to order them, as well as some other things, but it seems you won't be fighting with the rest of the Keep over them”. Change of any kind, even down to little things, was not welcome here and Larina knew the Justiciar would learn that soon enough. 

“If there’s no more questions, are you ready for our walk or do you need more time?”. Larina shook her head, gesturing to the cloak in her arms. 

“Good” he nodded and held the door open for her. As Larina passed him she noted the faint smell of smoke, and the hint of something else she could not quite place, Larina lingered for a moment: in that brief second she realised how much he actually towered over her, her head barely reached his shoulders. 

“You are correct about Sybille though…” he mentioned, looking down at her, only to be met with a reaction of confusion. 

“Solitude's court wizard _is_ a vampire” he smiled slightly as her eyes widened at what he had just said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Lizardbrain for your lovely comments and to Eman for more fantastic and useful criticisms! Hopefully this chapter appears to have taken them on board, and especially the formatting of the speech marks!


	7. River of Blood and Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their personal meeting, Larina gives the Justiciar the tour of Markarth he requested

Stepping out into the hall of the Keep, Larina had to suppress the grin on her face: she was sure that the others would have stepped out more composed, with her cheery expression and the court’s proclivity for gossip she knew rumours would spread. 

“Actually, If you would not mind waiting a moment” the Justiciar followed after, “would you mind if I brought the dogs? After that long carriage ride they  _ do _ need to stretch their legs” Larina shook her head and then suddenly remembered her promise to Voada. 

“I need to walk Eli as well!” Larina blurted out, then apologised, “I promised this morning I would bring her along, would the wolves be alright with it?” she asked in genuine concern. 

Regarding her in confusion, probably due to her affinity for treating the dogs like human counterparts, the Justiciar replied, 

“I hardly think they would mind….”. 

“Okay well..I’ll meet you back here in a moment” Larina called over her shoulder and darted towards the kitchens. Running through the doorway she had hoped to find Voada stood at the hearth, skidding to a stop when she narrowly avoided Anton. He  _ hated _ people in his kitchen.

Setting a filled, iron pot on the stone table, he looked over before asking,

“What  _ are _ you doing here?”.

“Oh well…” Larina stammered out “I offered to take Eli out for a walk to help Voada” and called the dog into the kitchen. 

“In that case, hurry up and take the mutt out, I can’t stand it under my feet” Anton swung a kick at the dog, narrowly missing her side. Larina clenched her fists but what could she do? He hadn’t actually kicked her and Anton was one of the few servants who did not take kindly to Larina’s presence, they had clearly picked up on the subtleties of the court and its perception of her. If she was anything like Daciana she would have no problem in reprimanding him for his informality towards her, but like always she said nothing. 

Heading back towards the entrance of the Keep, the spring returning to her step, Larina fussed Eli as she ran alongside her. She steadied her pace when she found the Justiciar waiting for her, accompanied by two Thalmor soldiers and a Markarth guard, as well as his wolfdogs. At the sight of them, Eli cowered behind Larina’s legs, but she fussed her fur and reassured her it was alright, still Eli kept her distance. 

The Justiciar gestured towards the door, “after  _ you _ ”.

The two guards at the entrance of the Keep, opened the heavy iron doors and allowed them to step out. As the sunlight hit her face, Larina could not help but let out a smile, it had been weeks since she had been let out of the Keep, and now she was free to roam the entire city!  _ Granted _ she was followed by guards. 

“Let’s start this way” Larina gestured to her left and the Justciar followed alongside her, the guards trailing behind. As they walked under the waterfall that fell alongside them, Larina ran her hands through the cold water, turning to flick it Eli who bounded ahead: stopping between two pillars around the next corner, Larina stepped as close to the edge of the path as she dared and looked up at the sky. It was a clear blue morning and from their height they could see out over the city and to some of the mountains ahead - even if it was raining she was sure she would have been equally content. But it  _ was _ rather cool and she threw on her cloak, tying it close. 

“I thought we could start this way, I could show you the houses and the market, see what they’re selling today, briefly show you the mine and blacksmiths” **_not that they’d want to get too close to Cidhna, a wrong look and she was sure they could be thrown in_** “ and then circle back up to the Temple of Dibella” Larina pointed to the golden doors on the rock before them. “Is there anything in particular you might need in the market? She asked, assuming he had brought most of his necessary things with him. 

“I am assuming that like  _ all _ cities, Markarth has an alchemist’s?” the Justiciar asked and Larina nodded, “yes about halfway down the hill before we pass the Inn -”. Larina was interrupted by the clearing of a throat, the Markarthian guard had stepped forward and interjected,

“Bothela’s shop has moved…” he informed her, how much change had there been since she had left the Keep?

“It's across from the Blacksmith’s now that the overseer's house has moved” Larina knew of the place he spoke of, but was surprised by the change in location. The poor woman was now even further from the market, and most of the townspeople avoided lower Markarth where they could.  **_At least she could profit from the injured workers_ ** , Larina thought, they were in no short supply. 

  
  


“I would like a few moments in private there and then when we return to the Keep, if you have no other business to attend to, I would like to return to the Great Hall before my meeting with Calcelmo” Larina had no reason to refuse, **_If I’m going to do a tour I might as well do it fully_** she mused and nodded in response. Out of politeness Larina decided not to pry into his request, even though her curiosity overwhelmed her and she always found herself enchanted by the colours of the potions bottles. 

  
  


As they ascended the stone steps to the next level, Larina saw that the wind had caused the small waterfall to blow more onto the path, and she realised that the Justiciar had no hood on his cloak.

“We should have gone the other way” Larina sighed, realising that he was going to get wet. 

“I’ll be fine” he replied, as he darted ahead he cupped a handful of water, and copying her behaviour from earlier, splashed his wolves that had run after him. A sly smile quickly flashed across his face, and Larina could not hide her own, momentarily forgetting they were not alone. As she caught up, they continued ahead, gesturing to the golden door to her left but without stopping, Larina stated,

“That  _ was _ Nepos’ house, he was an associate of the Silver-Blood’s but was murdered by the Reachmen before Madanach’s Rebellion” she was sure during his meetings during the day he would have been informed about the terrible incident and reassured that the city was once again safe. But rumours suggested otherwise, and those same whispers suggested that Nepos had had a part in it. Larina gestured for him to follow her down the stone staircase, allowing the dogs ahead first for fear of tripping over them, Markarth was no stranger to steep staircases and tumbles. 

“Unfortunately Justiciar you will find there are  _ many _ staircases throughout Markarth, and I’m not entirely looking forward to returning up to the Keep” Larina joked, before gesturing to the house on their left, “That’s where the Silver-Smith’s live, they will probably be on the market today, they’re hoping to buy one of the empty buildings soon to turn into a shop” Larina was still unsure why they had not done so already, but knew who would have stood in their way. As they crossed the small bridge over the waterfall, Larina quickly pointed to the next golden door, anxious to not linger for too long. 

“The treasury house, it's also where Thonar Silver-Blood lives with his daughter, his brother Thongvor has a room in the Keep as he’s a Thane to the Jarl” she did not leave him a moment to pause before continuing down to the Market, following the river. 

Even after Midday, the market was still bustling, with wagons selling fresh vegetables, meats, clothes and even saw Kerah with her stall, flanked by a guard as she sold her jewelry. Larina gave her a wave and wished her a good day. She turned and spotted the Justiciar had stopped at a stall to purchase something. He thanked the merchant and turned back to face her, two red apples in his hand, the Justiciar headed toward her and asked her to hold them for him and as she agreed, watched him remove his leather gloves and hand them to one of the Thalmor guards. Larina tried to keep her gaze from his thin, slender fingers, unable to understand why the thought of them made her blush. 

Larina led him across the river, stopping the other side and gesturing to the water flowing through the city,

“The water flows from the waterfalls at the top all the way down to the mine at the bottom, some cityfolk say the silver flows through it” 

“ _ More like blood _ ” she was interrupted by a sellsword leaning against the wall, swigging from a bottle of mead. He regarded them with a strange look, and made a movement to step forward before the Markarthaian guard raised his hand to his sword, the man simply shook his head and stepped back.

Larina did not know what to say and the Justiciar raised his eyebrows in curiosity, as she cast her eyes around the market she got the feeling they were being subtly watched, discreetly enough to avoid their attention. She knew the presence of the Thalmor would have turned heads, but the distinct  _ lack _ of attention they had received unnerved her. 

Choosing to awkwardly ignore him, Larina continued her tour, 

“Silver-Blood Inn, I am sure you can guess who owns it, those that don’t own houses or live outside the city rent rooms here, mostly workers at the blacksmith and smeltor”.

Following the river downstream, the Justiciar asked between bites of his apple, “and what of the workers at the mine?”. Larina was surprised that he had not already been informed, unsure how to word it, she decided to speak bluntly. 

“Unlike a lot of Keeps in Skyrim, Understone has no dungeon, so prisoners are sent to work off their debts in the mine”,  **_if they could survive that long, it wasn’t like they had anything to return to afterwards, most would end up in the warren_ ** ,  **_best not show him that_ ** , Larina thought to herself. The Justiciar showed no reaction to her words and they continued on. 

She stopped them on the bridge over the waterfall, overlooking the base of the river and gestured to the workers below them, “the smelter and the stocks, for lesser crimes that don’t befit the mine” next to the stocks was a cage that was usually hung high with a corpse taken from the mine, left for its bones to be picked dry by carrion, but now it was submerge in the water, perhaps hiding whatever grisly remains were inside. They crossed the bridge and Larina gestured to the carved stone entrance before them, guarding by several men,

“Cidhna Mine,  _ the source of most of Skyrim’s silver _ ” Larina parroted before pointing to the guards, “they increased the amount of guards after Madanach’s Rebellion”.

“Yes, your uncle reassured me” the Justiciar finally spoke, his words of little surprise to Larina. 

As he looked out over the city from their position on the bridge he asked,

“I am  _ surprised _ to see that the only instances of Dwemer technology outside of the Keep, are all here, unless I am mistaken?” and Larina shook her head in response, with the stories people had heard of Markarth and its ruins, she was not surprised that it was unusual they had not fully capitalized upon it. 

“Whatever had not broken down over time, was destroyed by the  _ Markarth Incident _ , it takes a lot of time and money to repair” and very few people in Markarth had both. “The few houses that can afford it have repaired the pipes that run through their homes and provide them with warmth but….” Larina knew she had to be honest, of why the only open use of the technology in the city was in Lower Marthath,

“We still don’t have a full understanding of how all the technology works, it has a  _ tendency _ to explode and or move when its not supposed to” Larina remembered the short time they had utilised some of the automatons that had been found in a ruin near Winterhold, repaired by Aicantar he said they would speed up the process of mining, doing the jobs even the men were too afraid off. Until they lost control of it and it slaughtered several of the men, if it was not for the fact they were serving sentences in Cidhna Mine, Larina was certain there would have been more uproar. 

“There were a few... _ accidents _ ” Larina decided to describe it as, “the townspeople won’t use the technology until they are certain it is safe, it's why Aicantar works so hard” Larina thought of the Mer, who had worked himself to near death after the accident, hoping to discover what went wrong. “He says once we unlock their secrets, there will be a significant industrial change” Larina knew his intentions were noble, in the few moments where he had been excited about his breakthroughs, he had indulged them to her. But even in  _ her _ naivete she knew that his honest work would be corrupted, why improve technology for poor farmers when that focus could turn to reviving unstoppable metal, beasts that could end a battle in mere moments. She knew that these were thoughts Aicantar held too, it was how his research was funded in the first place. 

  
  


Hoping to lighten the mood, Larina picked up her skirts and darted to the right and up the two flights of stone stairs, “its this way to the alchemist’s!” she called over her shoulder, the dogs running after her.

Only for her to lean against the wall just short of the shop’s door, to catch her breath: if she was this breathless now, she could only imagine how much worse she would be once they returned to the Keep. 

Larina gestured to the golden door before her, “ _ The Hag’s Cure _ , Markarth’s alchemist”. The Justiciar nodded before finishing his second apple and throwing their cores to his wolves. 

“I’ll only be a moment” the Thalmor guards trailing after him until he dismissed them and headed inside alone. Perching on a large stone next to the door, Larina knew better than to try and engage in small talk with any of the guards, and so spent the time waiting fussing the wolves that had settled at her feet, trying to convince Eli to creep closer. 

As they waited for the Justiciar’s emergence, Larina felt something hit her shoulder until it persisted, speeding up and she looked to the sky, realising that grey clouds were rolling in quickly and it was starting to rain. She was just about to enter the shop before the Justiciar emerged, glass bottle in hand and noticed the look on her face. 

“ _ Yes? _ ” he asked and Larina held her palm out, letting the raindrops splash against her skin, and he realised her intention. 

“ _ Ah _ ”, he ran his free hand through his long hair, tucking a few loose strands behind his ears, “are we much further from the Keep?’.

Larina shook her head, “no, we can head straight back, unless you would like to see inside the temple of Dibella?” the Justiciar said nothing but shook his head. They could have ascended the stairs and sought shelter under the rocks that overhanged under the temple, but being so close to the Keep, Larina decided it was a worthless endeavour. 

As they ascended the final, long staircase back towards the Keep, they were stopped by a beggar sitting on the floor, sheltering himself from the rain by a piece of overhanging rock. He wasn’t the only one, it was a common sitting in the city, only now Larina realised he had been the first they had seen all day. This route to the Keep was rarely used by the townsfolk, mostly by guards moving to and from their tower, or on their patrols, begging was not profitable here. Larina assumed that he had been moved on from the marketplace, probably for their benefit. 

As they trailed past him he extended a pitiful hand, asking for alms, and Larina apologised profusely for her lack of money. She had not thought to bring her purse with her, she had no intention of buying anything. 

The Justiciar removed a few silver coins from his pocket and handed them to the man,

“Is that  _ it _ ” he spat in return, the Justiciar said nothing and kept his poise. Any other nobleman in Markarth would have ignored him in the first place or beat him for his insolence, Larina thought, wondering if there was anything at all that would phase their Justiciar. 

“Accept your coin old man and go buy some mead, before I arrest you for loitering” the Markarthian guard spat back, shoving the man to his feet. 

“The  _ only _ vagrant in Markarth?” Larina could tell from his intention the real meaning of his words, he had noticed it too. 

“The people here…” there was no other way to put it kindly, wondering if beggars received the same treatment all over Skyrim. “they don’t exactly take kindly to them”  **_perhaps they were a reminder that it was a fate they too could face_ ** , Larina wondered. 

“Just past the foundry is another part of the city, but its not entirely  _ safe _ to wander through, some of the houses began to sink into the ruins and the rest were destroyed during the  _ battle _ ”  **_that was one way to destroy the slaughter of men, women and children by Ulfric’s men_ ** . 

“Not everyone who resides in  _ the warrens _ are homeless though” Larina continued, “some of the workers live there too, not everyone can be housed in the city, and the Reach is still filled with the Forsworn, mines and farms have to be guarded to be kept safe. But the Jarl and his steward are working on increasing their support and expanding the farm land.” her uncle had been saying that for years, to little effect. 

Larina led them past another waterfall, and up to the final flight of stairs that to the Keep. She could hear how loud her’s and the Markarthian guard’s breathing was in comparison to the elves and tried to subdue it. Seeking shelter by Understone’s entrance, Larina gestured out to the view before them, 

“ _ So _ ….that’s Markarth” she concluded, and the Justiciar joined her by her side. Larina suddenly became very aware of the proximity of his body. As they looked out over the city, Larina heard the distant sound of a rumble, and the storm finally broke, heavy raindrops hitting the floor. The now grey skies blended in with the mountain stone of the city, the increasing darkness adding to its gloom. 

“The city has a…. _ unique _ charm” the Justiciar broke the silence, “it might be the first time I disagree with my mentor” Larina could only assume what he meant by his words, and asking for no opinion from her she suggested they head inside before the rain blew into their faces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter guys! I might be a bit slow posting/responding over the weekend as I have university assignments to work on!  
> I also don't know if its of any use to anyone but here's the Corrilian section of this story's pinterest board. This is what I have in mind when I'm writing our sassy and refined Justiciar https://www.pinterest.co.uk/PrimaNoctis/flower-of-markarth-wip/corrilian-of-skywatch/


	8. A Ceiling of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their tour of the city, Corrilian asks Larina to take him to the Great Hall to talk about the fresco....

As they entered the keep, the Justiciar dismissed the soldiers, there was no doubt he would be safe within Understone: he had asked her to show him the Great Hall and then take him to the laboratory, and Larina was confused as to why he requested a tour of somewhere had already been, but thought no more of questioning it. Shrugging off her damp cloak, she lay it on a stone table, knowing they would return this way and she’d collect it then, to take back to her room and dry by the fire. “I just need to quickly run into the kitchen to return Eli” as she spoke her stomach grumbled, she had not eaten since breakfast and had not thought to get anything from the market.

“Would you like me to bring you anything to eat?” Larina asked and the Justiciar simply shook his head, trailing after her. He waited outside of the kitchens as Larina dashed in, settling Eli in front of the hearth to dry. 

She was happy to see that Anton was elsewhere and Voada was sat by the fire, reading through some notes. 

“Anton won’t be happy at the smell of wet dog _you know_ ” Voada regarded her but smiled all the same. Looking round to make sure she would not be caught by the cook lurking in a dark corner, ready to whap her with his wooden spoon, Larina quickly grabbed two pieces of bread and wolfed them down. 

“By the _divine_ ” Voada exalted, offering the younger Breton a drink of water, “you must be careful you don’t choke! I have no doubt if Anton found your warm corpse in here, you’d be in the stew by evening!” Larina laughed and thanked her all the same. 

“I was thinking, maybe I could convince the Jarl to let me walk Eli more often, there was no trouble today” Larina gave the mutt a quick fuss before departing the kitchen. 

“ _Don’t count on it_ ” the older Breton called after her. 

Returning to the Justiciar, she found him leaning against the wall opposite, having removed his outer-robes, revealing that underneath he wore a dark tunic made of cotton, and it was no surprise that his hosen too was black. Larina could help but cast her gaze over him, noting that despite his lithe figure common to the few mer she had seen, his shoulders were rather broad. She could see the faint glint of a silver chain as it dipped below his collar and she wondered whether it was an amulet and what it was. 

Evidently, she had held her gaze for too long, as the Justiciar’s eyes met Larina’s and he raised an eyebrow. She felt the recurring feeling of her cheeks beginning to flush. 

“Shall we continue?” he asked, before heading towards the Great Hall without her. 

Larina could barely keep up with his stride, hardly long but surprisingly quick. She found him stood, centre of the Hall and gazing upward at the fresco on the ceiling, mouth slightly agape. 

“ _Truly_ the highlight of the keep….” she heard him murmur, wondering if she was supposed to hear. 

Sitting herself in one of the empty, stone seats, her calves beginning to ache from their walk, Larina could not help but ask,

“Justiciar, why did you want me to bring you here? You’ve already seen it”. 

She heard a faint sight emit from his lips as he knelt to the ground to fuss his wolves, with his hand on the neck of the larger wolf and replied,

“I have already informed you there is no need to call me _Justiciar_ ” he sounded almost exasperated. Was she insulting by calling him by his title, he did say it was only expected of those who worked under him but she thought she was being polite. 

“ _Sorry_ ” Larina murmured back, wondering if he heard. 

He pulled the smaller wolf onto his lap, settling himself on the floor, and Larina was surprised to see him behave well… so informally. 

“There’s _no_ need…” he looked back up at the ceiling. “I asked you to bring me back here so I can learn about this fresco…” Larina wondered why he had not asked the Steward or even Daciana herself, she was the one who commissioned it. As if he heard her thoughts, he continued

“Your aunt has a _tendency_ to overindulge” **that was certainly the polite way to describe it** , Larina thought to herself but answered his question nonetheless. 

“Sulinus Matius if I remember correctly…” Larina replied, “my aunt had asked Calcelmo if he knew a _great_ altmeri painter to decorate the ceiling, to no such luck” it was the only time her aunt had sought his counsel, demanding he came to her and was disappointed when he could not provide a name. “Our legate Admand had heard her request and recommended him, saying that he had decorated a number of places in Cyrodiil and was in high demand. It was enough to convince her and she demanded him for the job”. Larina could not complain, the fresco was perfect enough to fill the void of missing the outside world, without that or her balcony she was sure she would go mad. 

“I was lucky to grab him for an hour or two when he was finished and he kindly instructed me on some sketches” Larina smiled at the thought, since she had been so busy with Calcelmo she had forgotten all about it. As she raised her gaze, Larina realised the Justiciar had been watching her, that strange feeling returned to her stomach. 

“I had not noticed until I sat here, the depictions of the constellations are _exquisite_ ” the Justiciar remarked, “you were born under the atronach were you not?”. Larina nodded in response and asked, “what about yourself?” curious to know. 

Looking back up at the fresco, he responded “under the Lord” pointing it out. 

“You’ve already had your birthday, how did you celebrate?” Larina could only imagine the kind of feasts and festivities that were thrown in great elven halls. 

“ _I didn't,_ ” he responded dryly. 

  
  


“Perhaps your aunt does have _some_ taste” he stated changing the subject, was that a joke? Larina wondered, trying to bite her lip to save from revealing a smile. As he kept his position on the floor, Larina dared to ask,

“You said before you did not agree with your mentor about Markarth, what did you mean?”.

He paused for a moment before responding. 

“Ondolemar _despised_ this place, I was half expecting the same” Larina wondered if he knew how blunt he sounded. “But amongst all these craggy rocks and _well_ exasperating inhabitants, there are a few instances of _alaxon_ ” Larina could only assume what that Elvish word meant, perhaps it was the feeling invoked by seeing the fresco for the first time. 

“Your aunt talked about her life before Markarth, her position in society and I can assume it was the same for your mother before her marriage, why did she leave?” he asked, not breaking his gaze from her. It was something Larina had wondered to herself a few times but never spoken aloud. She rose from her seat and walked over to him, gathered her skirts modestly and sat on the floor beside his wolves. Making sure they accepted her still, Larina buried her hands into the fur of the smaller wolf, it was soft and warm, and so reassuring her. 

Scratching behind its ears she replied, “I guess for the benefit of my father, they had lived in Jehanna with my brother for a few years before I was born and my brother was not entirely fond of leaving the city for Rockreath” he had become so adjusted to the city’s culture that she was not surprised he had joined the army to see the Empire. “My mother told me on a few occasions that my father despised the court, he only put up with it for her but she could see how much it wore him down, so she made that sacrifice” one of the few signs Larina had picked up, her mother’s love for her father. She had never seen its similarity in Daciana and her uncle. 

Since he had been so forthright with her, Larina tried her luck and asked him too,

“What of your home, of Skywatch? You said yourself the shores of Solitude could not compare and I am sure the stone walls of Markarth are like a cage to you” the words could not help but slip out and she dared herself even further, “so why leave? Why did you join the Thalmor... Corrilian?”. It was the first time she had spoken his name and it had slipped out like honey, flushing her cheeks again. If this was going to be the reaction every time, she would stick to his title. 

The Justiciar regarded her with narrow eyes, “for the honour of my family” he responded bluntly. His eyes did not match his response, but from experience Larina knew not to push further. 

The Justiciar rose from the ground, shaking the wolf hair off his brais before offering her his hand. Larina took it, and he pulled her to her feet with surprising strength. She could not help but keep her hand lingering in his own, and he did not revoke it immediately but withdrew his hand after a few moments. 

Looking towards the door he murmured, “I promised a meeting with Calcelmo…” Larina had assumed that he was paying _them_ a visit, and was curious as to what Calcelmo wanted to see him about. Respecting her friend however, she decided not to pry. 

They walked together in silence, heading towards the laboratory, and Larina lingered outside, watching as the Justiciar headed in. As she turned to grab her still damp cloak from the stone table she had left on, she heard the Justiciar say,

“Thank you for your time today, it has been...quite pleasant” before he headed through the doorway. Larina barely had time to stammer out a “ _you're welcome_ ”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Eman and my re-enactor friend Chris for helping me describe wardrobes more accurately!  
> My edits to the previous chapter made it longer so I decided to make the Not A Date a standalone chapter!


	9. Change in the Court

As she watched Corrilian head into the laboratory, Larina was left with a strange feeling of boredom, her brain temporarily malfunctioning as she figured out what to do next. Normally her _cure_ was to pester Calcelmo for work but now that that possibility was out of the question, she was at a loss. Larina headed back to the stone table to collect her still damp cloak and headed back to her room. 

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, Larina picked a book at random from her desk and headed to her balcony to kill some time and read. The rain had stopped over the part of the mountain the Keep was situated in, but haze across the Reach suggested that it was still raining in the valleys. Larina thought about the Justiciar’s words “ _unique charm_ ” and he was right, she always thought the Reach had a wild, ephemeral beauty to it. Only caught at the right moment or temperament. Even the Nords did not compare it to their other cities, the culture of Solitude or the history of Windhelm. In Markarth and the Reach there was only blood and silver. 

Larina found she could not focus on the words on the page and slammed her book closed, pressing her fingers against her temple lightly as she felt the beginning stages of a headache. The cool, fresh air of the mountainside helped alleviate it somewhat, and she rested with the view, musing over the events of her day. The tour had gone exactly how she was expecting, the city polished and on its best behaviour for the Justiciar, but she had enjoyed being out in the sunlight again - even if it had been called short by the rain. Larina’s mind jumped to their moment in the Great Hall and that feeling returned to her stomach and she sighed. She could not lie to herself and pretend the Justiciar was not attractive, her aunt would cruelly mock her if she had discovered it. Despite her naivete and enforced innocence, Larina was still a woman and the thought of the Justiciar’s long, slender fingers brushing her skin sent her pulse racing. 

She shook her head at her own foolishness, the fact he was a new face in the Keep and that he appeared to be younger than the last Justiciar was something to lose her head over? She reminded herself that he was an _altmer_ and a member of the Thalmor at that, his pleasantries were purely because he was here to investigate the city and her uncle and needed to keep them all happy to oblige. If he wasn’t a Justiciar he _still_ would have no interest, she mused, he had walked Tamriel a lot longer than she had, he probably thought they were all foolish and insignificant. She knew how the Altmer viewed their own race compared to the humans of Tamriel, and she had heard of how the Thalmor viewed the _manmer_. 

Taking on the tone of her aunt, Larina reprimanded herself, **_remember your place girl - you don’t know how long he’s going to be stationed here, if you act foolish at every sight of him you’ll embarrass yourself_ **. 

Larina wondered if she could get away with requesting her evening meal in her room and possibly allowing herself time to bathe: she had heard stories that some of the more affluent noblemen in Skyrim had bathing rooms, rather than having to share one or two iron tubs or using the nearest bathhouse. Markarth had neither, all that dwemer technology for what? She was surprised that Daciana had not requested one at all. Larian thought of herself sinking into the hot water, her muscles instantly loosening themselves but knew it was a useless endeavour. Her uncle, at the suggestion of his wife and the steward, had requested the presence of all the noble families at the Keep in the evenings, and Larina was already beginning to feel exhausted from their presence. She knew they were playing a long game but could not figure out _what_. The sooner they revealed it the better. 

Larina looked through her wardrobe, she’d have to convince the Jarl to let her out of the Keep again, if they were going to be hosting this much there were only so many outfits she could repeat before being chastised by the ladies of the court. She had not bought any new dresses in a year or so and was lucky to not have outgrown these. Larina settled on a dark green dress simple, and long-sleeved. Now that she had a bit more time to spend on her dressing, Larina decided that rather than wearing her hair up, she would braid into a long plait, interweaving it with a thin piece of material that was almost similar in colour. She almost envied her cousins in their straight hair that they could wear down with no lengthy fixings, when her’s was still frizzy and tangled from the rain before. Larina separated two strands of hair on either side of her face, twirling them between her fingers to wave them a bit before letting them frame her face. 

Her dress was still rather plain and Larina decided that for a change she would match her family in the jewellery they wore, not that she had much in her little wooden box. Two pairs of earrings that she had brought with her, plus a silver bangle and the amulet of kynareth that had been birthday presents from her parents: Larina fastened the amulet around her neck and slipped the bangle over her wrist. She still felt like her look was not complete however and decided that for once she’d wear a pair of earrings, with three options to choose from. Her gift from the Silver-Blood’s stood out amongst the rest and she was reluctant to see them, hoping to avoid any comments from Thonar, but if she was going to make this much effort on her appearance, she might as well go all out. So she chose them, tear-drop in shape and beset with two tiny emeralds the size of a finger-nail. 

She hung around in her room until she could justify killing the minutes no longer and headed to the dinning hall. Larina stopped momentarily in the inner sanctum before the throne room and looked around at the Dwemer decorations before her. She wondered why she had never asked her uncle if they had already been left positioned this way before the Nords or Reachfolk had ever occupied these halls. **_Would time too, leave them behind in this mountain_ ** ? Larina groaned at her own thoughts, **_way too deep, kid_ **. She had to get through dinner first, her existential crisis could be postponed until later. 

As she headed into the dinning hall to join the, Larina realised this was the first time she had been so early to a meal since she first arrived: she had avoided spending any unnecessary time with them as much as possible. Larina found her aunt and the steward already there, Raerek poured Daciana a glass of wine as she walked toward her niece, head held high. 

Giving a look of faux surprise, Daciana let out a sly grin and said 

“My, _you_ have made quite an effort this evening…” Larina regarded her aunt in return, she could say the _same_ thing. Daciana’s hair was in loose waves around her shoulders, accompanied with a moonstone circlet: her hair was so naturally straight that Larina knew she must have sat for hours making a servant braid it. She wore a beautifully embroidered red dress, and a thin chain of silver looping around her waist. **_So who was she dressing for_** **?** Larina was surprised at her own spiteful thinking. 

The steward began pouring Larina a glass of wine before Daciana stopped him with a wave of her hand, gesturing to a seat near the middle of the table, her aunt drawled,

“ _You’re_ sitting there this evening”, taking her place near the head of the table and Larina sat where she was told. 

Her uncle joined them not long after, followed by Thonar-Silver blood and his daughter, taking their seats at the table. Jarl Igmund sat at the head, flanked by his wife and the steward, Thonar sat beside the steward whilst the seat beside her aunt remained empty. Larina realised that she had been unfortunately seated next to Thonar, and as Faleen led her cousins in, Hrókr sat opposite her and Edurne and Liesel Silver-Blood filled the last two seats. Calcelmo and Aicantar it appeared, would not be joining them, neither would the Silver-Smith family. Realising where she was situated, Larina suppressed a sigh at the thought of the limited conversation. 

Finishing her glass of wine, Daciana gestured to the empty chair beside her,

“Do we _wait_ for the Justiciar? Perhaps I should send a servant to fetch him…” Larina wondered if it was the warmth of the room or perhaps early drinking that had caused the red flush on her aunt’s face. 

Her uncle said nothing, leaning back in his chair and resting his chin on his arm. 

“Perhaps we should wait a few moments…” the steward suggested, Larina could sense a restlessness at the table. 

As she could see her aunt’s patience begin to fade, the Justiciar sauntered into the room and apologised briefly for his lateness,

“I had some letters I had to send…” somewhat justifying himself. Settling into the empty seat that was his, Larina was surprised to see that he had changed out of his Thalmor robes. Their previous Justiciar had never dined with them during her time at the Keep and she wondered if it was usual. Larina cast her eyes over his arraignment, she had never seen anything like it worn by any nobleman in Markarth. It was finely tailored to his body, the shoulders almost emphasised to a sharp point, long sleeved and high necked and pinned to the left side of his chest was a broach of silver, depicting the symbol of the Thalmor. In their robes this detail had always been gold, he was evidently committed to his own style. Yet again he was dressed head to toe in black - at this point she would be surprised to see him in any other colour. His fine, white-blonde hair was tied behind back behind his head, and Larina wondered if it was the light or the tightness of the braid that emphasised his remarkably high cheekbones. As he reached for his wine glass and signalled for it to be filled, Larina noted that on his thumb he wore the silver band he had been gifted as well as a few other silver rings on his other hand.

At the Jarl’s queue their meals were served, seared salmon accompanied with potatoes, leeks and tomatoes. Someone had clearly informed the cook of the Justiciar particular for fish, as he took a sip of his wine her uncle spoke, 

“I see you like the wine Corrilian, it had been recommended from an old friend and it's a court favourite”. Larina knew it was the same wine that was always served, and remembered his reaction that he quickly tried to hide the last time he drank it. 

“ _Indeed_ ” it was a one word response and suggested no disagreement, but Larina could tell by the faint clench in his jaw that he was lying. She was not much of a wine drinker herself, she could not really handle it, but if she had to continue to listen to Edurne and Liesel’s petty conversations any longer, she would be diving across the table for the jug. Still remaining, fortunately close, to her aunt. 

Noticing that her glass remained empty, Thonar pulled the decanter closer and filled her glass, ignoring the look that Daciana shot him. 

“I see you’re wearing the earrings I gifted you” he murmured in her ear, his breath almost making her gag on her food: as far as she had been aware, it was a gift from _all_ of the Silver-Blood family. 

“ _You_ really should wear them more often….they emphasise the beauty of your face” his body lent in closer and Larina began to feel more uncomfortable, she dared to shoot a look at her aunt, hoping she would make some disparaging comment, embarrassing them both and making him stop. Daciana said nothing, simply giving her niece another dirty look as if she had brought this on herself and took another swig of her wine.

Larina tried her best to ignore Thonar, keeping her gaze locked on her plate, until she felt his hand caress her leg, trailing further upwards. She shifted suddenly in her seat away from him, causing the table to knock and the Justiciar to grab his glass to save it from spilling over. 

All their eyes were on her, she could feel it. Larina quickly dared to bring them up from her plate and caught the Justiciar giving her a _strange_ look. She felt mortified and could not stomach the rest of her meal, pushing it around her plate. How had he dared to do such a thing at the dinner table, in front of the Jarl? In front of **_everybody_ **. 

“Did you enjoy your tour today Corrilian? I hope you weren’t called back too early due to the rain?” her uncle asked between forkfuls of food. 

The Justiciar swallowed his mouthful before taking a sip of his wine and responding,

“Despite the walk on my arrival I _still_ had not anticipated so many stairs” the left side of his mouth twitched up in a small smile as the table laughed at his remarks. 

“Luckily there aren’t as many in the Keep” her uncle laughed in reply. Larina wondered if _he_ would enquire about leaving Understone again, would her uncle let him?. 

“I was _however_ surprised to see the lack of Dwemer technology utilised in the city, but your niece _kindly_ informed me why” he drawled, slightly surprised when they all shot Larina a funny look. **_You fool_ ** , Larina thought to herself, **_now they’ll be suspicious about what I said_ **, Larina knew Daciana’s talons will be dragging her to one side before the meal was over. 

“Yes I told our Justiciar that thanks to your support Jarl Igmund, Calcelmo and Aicantar were hoping to learn the secrets of _all_ of Nchuand-Zel’s dwemer technology to be properly understood and utilised by Markarth’s citizens” by the look on their faces, her flowery words and flattery had clearly worked. Larina caught Corrilian’s gaze as he cast it over her and raised an eyebrow. 

As they finished their meal, the table was cleared away and they all trailed after her uncle towards the Great Hall, and Larina watched as Corrilian quickly glanced at the ceiling again. **_He really does like it_ **, she thought to herself. 

As they waited for the rest of the court to arrive and join them, the steward summoned a servant to fetch them some drinks. The Justiciar settled in a stone seat at an empty table and crossed his leg, resting his hand in the palm of his hand. Larina had to remind herself not to stare at them again for too long. 

Bringing the almost empty bottle of wine she had brought from the dining table with her, Daciana trailed after him and lent on the table and asked, 

“Would you like me to refill your glass _Corrilian_?” the way she said his name was like a purr. The Justiciar said nothing, **_was that a flash of disgust on his face_**? Larina hoped, **_by the gods_** , **_are you jealous_** _?_. 

Corrilian called after the Steward requesting a glass of brandy, still undefeated Daciana sunk in a seat beside him and began to interrogate him about his day: Larina was somewhat glad to overhear that he answered in brief, one word answers. As she took a sip of her wine, she caught his gaze and tried to flash him a look of sympathy. 

They did not have to wait long until the rest of the court joined them, once Kerah joined her aunt, Larina trailed after, waiting for the arrival of Calcelmo and Aicantar. Hoping to catch up with Daciana’s inebriation, Kerah signalled for Larina to fill her a large glass and began their evening of idle gossip. Once the two other mer arrived, Larina hoped to excuse herself to join them in conversation, only to be beaten by the Justiciar rising out of his seat. Calcelmo welcomed him happily and gestured to an empty stone table to sit at. Spotting her across the room, the older mer gestured for Larina to join him but with a sigh she shook her head, and kept to her place. 

“ _Really_ , it is a shame we do not have a bard for some liveliness” she heard Kerah sigh and Larina had to agree. Amongst all this noise, there was something missing.

“You know I have a bard in my employment, he _could_ be spared for a few evenings” Thonar suggested, coming to a halt behind Larina chair, leaning on the back of it. 

Daciana scoffed at the idea and dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and Larina could _sense_ Thonar’s grip on her chair tighten,

“You mean _Yngvar_ ? Don’t be so ridiculous” her aunt mocked him, “the man is a _sellsword_ , you know the Jarl’s opinion on _those_ and do you really think I would want him singing profanities around the _children_ ?” Daciana looked to Kerah for support, who nodded in agreement. Larina detested how her aunt still referred to them _all_ as children: She was months away from her eighteenth year, Hrókr turning the same the year after and Edurne was sixteen. They were hardly children, Kerah’s daughter Adara was the youngest at around thirteen and Liesel was fifteen if Larina could remember correctly - despite her youth, Adara acted significantly _maturer_ than the rest of the girls at court. 

Moving the attention away from Thonar, Daciana called after the Justiciar and asked,

“Do _you_ play any instruments Corrilian?” he looked annoyed at the disruption of his conversation but answered all the same, 

“I once played the lyre but not in a number of years, and to answer your _next_ question... _no_ ” it was a definitive, impatient answer and with the look it caused Daciana, Larina had to bite her lip to stop a smile sneaking across her face. 

“If you can find someone else other than your _sellsword_ Thonar, bring them to the court when you can” Daciana snapped at him. 

“As you wish” he responded and half-bowed away from the table as he spotted the arrival of his brother. Larina wondered what had taken Thongvor so long to join them, he was usually one of the first here…

Larina watched out of the corner of her eye as Thonar and Thongvor conversed to one side and as she caught her aunt’s gaze, she knew Daciana had spotted them too. As Thonar nodded, his brother left his side and approached the Jarl, a look of concern resting upon his face,

“Jarl Igmund, I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news…” the rest of the court sat up in anticipation,

“The Forsworn have taken several mines in Karthwasten and there are rumours they may target Kolskeggr next, I have sent some my men to protect Pavo and his workers but the old fool is reluctant to accept it” Kolskeggr was not far from Markarth and Larina wondered what had happened to all those poor workers, her uncle voiced the same opinion. 

“Those that managed to make it out are now at Left Hand, we’re setting tents up for them and getting them work but we need to start making preparations”. The Forsworn had been suspiciously quiet for over the last year, like everyone else Larina thought they had collapsed with infighting after Madanach’s execution, evidently not. 

“Jarl, I would like to make a suggestion” Thonar interrupted, joining his brother’s side, “Yngvar and Ogmund both work for me and live within the city walls, allow me to bring them into the court, a form of extra protection if you like” he looked around at them, gaging their reactions. 

“The reason why Faleen and my brother are the only ones present with swords is because we want to feel protected and _relaxed_ , we can’t do that surrounded by the guards. But two extra men would help with those numbers…” **_two more men under the control of the Silver-Blood’s_ **, Larina thought to herself, wondering what her uncle had to say. 

Clearly the news of the Forsworn attack had unnerved him, without taking any private advice from the steward he reluctantly agreed. 

“Actually” Calcelmo interjected, raising from his seat and approaching the Jarl. Larina caught the quick movement as Aicantar tried to prevent his uncle, to no avail. 

“I have some people travelling to meet me tomorrow, I _was_ going to bring them to you and introduce them. They’re student's arriving from the College Winterhold, seeking access to Nchuand-Zel, I was hoping to speak to you about allowing them into the ruins but…” 

The Jarl waved his hand, encouraging the older mer to continue, 

“They might be able to help the situation at Kolskeggr, preventing the heavy hand of the guards or Thongvor’s men. If it does not look like Jarl is directly involved we might be able to prevent more trouble?” it was a sensible suggestion on Calcelmo's part, the older mer had no interest in bloodshed, and she wondered why her uncle had not sought his counsel more often. Larina could see the look of irritation mirrored on Thongvor and Thonar’s faces. 

The Jarl nodded and responded, 

“Bring them straight to me tomorrow when they arrive and we will discuss…”.

Adventures from Winterhold could mean only one thing, they were from the College, but what interest could they have with Markarth’s ruins? More than that these were _researchers_ who wanted to delve into the dwemer ruins, there was no way Aicantar would miss that, and neither could she. Larina disregarded the rest of her wine, her brain whirring into action thinking of a plan that could convince Calcelmo and her Uncle to join them on their expedition…. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry dear readers, I have a weakness for beautiful hands ;w; hopefully Corrilian's potential musical abilities make up for it...
> 
> \-- for those re-reading this chapter, there have been minor edits


	10. The Adventurers Arrive

Larina had barely gotten a full night’s rest, designing and rearranging getting her plan ready for the day ahead: even though she had stopped drinking, it had still been a late night and Daciana did not accept any excuse Larina offered to disappear from the table. But she thought she had something under her sleeve, resting entirely on the intelligence of _one_ man. Larina splashed water on her face from her basin and wetted the top of her head to flatten any fly-away curls and re-dressed in the outfit she wore during her tour of Markarth, it was still relatively clean and only a temporary arrangement. 

She had no appetite for breakfast but waited to accept her tray from Voada nonetheless. When she heard the telltale knocking at her bedroom door, Larina opened it a little  _ too _ quickly, making the old Breton jump in surprise. 

“My! You are chipper after your late night! The state you all left that Hall in...” Voada sighed, and as Larina reached to accept her tray, she was surprised to see the older woman was  _ not _ the only presence in the hallway. 

“What on  _ Tamriel _ is going on?” Larina asked in confusion, and she could tell by the look on Voada’s face she was not happy. 

“The Justiciar is not impressed by his room apparently” the older Breton responded quite sarcastically,

“Fresh linen, flowers and hot water is  _ clearly _ not enough because he has no window, no sunlight and has demanded another room” she continued and Larina could understand her frustration. Between working herself to death in the hot, windowless kitchen to running errands for the demanding members of the court, the poor woman never had a break. The Justiciar probably seemed mollycoddled to her. 

But this was a scenario Larina was not prepared for, and it was something that could catch her out. Making sure to sound as blase as possible, she asked

“How soon does he want to move into his room? Perhaps I could help?” hoping her words did not sound too investigative. It clearly worked as Voada shook her head and replied, 

“Don’t be silly, we can manage on our own, and he says he’s in no rush…” and as she continued she adopted the heavy, refined accent that their previous Justiciar had spoken in “ _ our superiorly bred mer does not want a dusty room _ ” Larina had to cover her mouth to stifle her laugh. 

“He’s lucky, it's the only room apart from yours on this hall that has a balcony, especially since it's a lot larger than yours, I’m surprised you were moved into it first”  **_I wonder why that was_ ** , Larina thought in response but said nothing. 

As Voada left to head back to her duties, Larina impulsively grabbed her arm and shuddered, her behaviour reminding her of her aunt. 

“Could you please do me a favour?” Voada nodded in response, “When the adventurers from Winterhold arrive, the ones that Calcelmo is waiting for, could you fetch me?” Voada gave her a quizzical look but accepted nonetheless. 

Larina took her tray to the stone table by her door, and began pushing the food around her plate, but forced herself to eat despite her lack of appetite. If her plan worked, she’d appreciate having at least  _ one _ good meal in her stomach. 

She anxiously paced around her room, waiting for that sign, becoming frustrated at her own unproductivity. Deciding that she would begin preparing in advance, she found her leather satchel at the bottom of her wardrobe that she brought from home for sentiments sake, and filled it with her sketch pad, pencils and a fieldbook of mountain flora in case she was caught. 

“ _ I was just planning on going on a walk, to sketch some flowers, I don’t understand why you’ve stopped me? You said it was safe to go the other day! _ ” she had rehearsed her excuse through the night, over and over. 

Once she heard Voada’s rapid knock on the door, she decided that the satchel looked  _ too _ obvious left on her chair - paranoid that anyone would come into her room, and decided quickly to stash it behind her bed. Answering the door to Voada, Larina rushed braiding her hair, as quickly as her hands would allow and asked,

“How many were there?” assuming that it would have only been one or two and was surprised when Voada replied, 

“Five in total, Calcelmo has already taken them to the Jarl”. 

Larina thanked the older Breton over her shoulder as she ran after them to the throne room. 

As she reached the bottom of the stairs of the inner sanctum, Larina paused for a moment to catch her breath and compose herself, and with a level head she ascended the stairs. 

Entering the room, she was not surprised to see her uncle, slouched as ever on his throne and accompanied by the steward, Faleen, Thongvor Silver-Blood, Calcelmo and Aicantar, and finally the Justiciar: stood next to him she noticed another member of the Thalmor that accompanied him, had he arrived with the group?

She had arrived just as Calcelmo was introducing them, 

“Siblings Tholan and Thonja Wintermist” the siblings were practically identical, blonde hair braided back, certainly taller than her and rather broad. Despite the fact that Winterhold held the only College of Magicka in Skyrim, she was still surprised by the presence of Nord practitioners. Perhaps it was the reaction to magick that she had seen in Markarth that clouded her view. 

“Drulis Orethi” the Dunmer caught Larina watching her from across the room and gave her a playful wink. 

Gesturing to the last two of the group Calcelmo gestured,

“Marcurio Verres and Mina-diir” it was the first time Larina had seen a Khajit and she had to drop her gaze, fearful that she came across as an overly curious local. She noted that they all wore robes similar in colour, and were more tightly fitted to their figures than those of Calcelmo and Aicantar. Perhaps it was due to their travel, Larina wondered, assuming the variety of colours represented their individual schools of magick. 

Regarding them all carefully from his height, the Jarl asked, 

“What exactly brings you to Markarth”. At his request, the male Nord stepped forward, presenting himself as the leader of the group - intentional or not and responded, 

“My friends and I are recent graduates of the College of Winterhold and have interest in exploring the ruins of Nchuand-Zel” he began. “We have conducted research missions into the ruins of Sarthaal and Alftand and heard about Calcelmo’s research into the dwemer ruins here and- “ he was interrupted impatiently by the Jarl. 

“So what exactly do you  _ want _ from these ruins, my court mage has already done extensive research into what is available and no-one can push deeper as it is overrun by Falmer. Why should I risk my city being overrun to aid some  _ mages _ ” Larina had never heard her uncle sound so irate, if she had not been so shocked she would have been mortified. 

The Nord’s sister stepped forward alongside him, holding her head up she spat back

“Because we have our  _ magick _ on our side, we are not a bunch of fools running in head first with swords. Granted we might need some help and guidance as we don’t know the ruins, but what is left to discover of Nchuand-Zel, is significantly smaller than what we have already encountered. We will clear the ruins of the Falmer and allow  _ your _ mage to continue his work down there, in return we take some of the dwemer scrap and alchemy ingredients that we harvest along the way. The rest of what is mineable we will not touch”. Her argument was a strong one and Larina was impressed, her uncle could not argue with it. 

Her feistiness clearly impressed him, perhaps if they had meekly stood their ground he would have dismissed them and heard nothing more. Markarth was rarely a home to stranger’s, but the proximity of the Forsworn on his doorstep and a solution that took the Silver-Blood’s out of the equation of solving, stood before him, even Larina knew her uncle was not that foolish not to accept. 

“So who will guide you?” her uncle asked and Aicantar took this moment and side-stepped his uncle, dismissing his protestations. 

“ _ I Will _ , I managed to make the first dig and heard how much further they were able to access on the second from the survivors, with my guidance I will be able to get them in and out so long as we are given support. I can record the details of what we find, but I might not be able to bring the heavier material back”. Surprisingly her uncle agreed before suggesting, 

“I will allow the presence of several guards but  _ no more _ , but if you need additional men for digging or carrying tools I will permit you to take men from the warrens”. Those men he could afford to sacrifice.

“ **_But…_ ** ” there it was, the inevitable condition that their work depended upon, from her position above Larina could already sense they were working out  _ what _ he could request. 

“I expect something in return…” He regarded them from his throne, waiting and watching as they each nodded in agreement after flashing looks amongst one another. 

“I will give you ten days in the ruins, no more.  _ When _ you return you will solve a problem for me, there are a handful of bandit camps around the Reach that are threatening my people, you will assist my guards in  _ eradicating _ them.” it wasn’t a suggestion, they had to agree otherwise their access would be completely barred. With the combined forces of Thongvor’s men and the students' magicka they would lay waste to the small groups that remained from the Rebellion. Her uncle was clearly taking no chances.

As Aicantar turned to confer with the students, Larina realised this was her moment. She descended the steps to the floor, passing the students - much to their intrigue and stopped before her uncle bobbing a curtsy. 

From the look on his face he clearly knew what she was about to ask and addressed her with a stern,“ _ Don’t _ ”.

Ignoring him, Larina began to plead her case. 

“Uncle  _ please _ , you know I have been assisting Calcelmo and Aicantar with their research for over a year now -”, her uncle interrupted her reminding her they were  _ only drawings _ but she continued undeterred. 

“Yes but I know almost as much about the dwemer technology as Aicantar.  _ Please _ allow me to go with him, I can sketch what they find and what they can’t bring back with them, think of the architecture they will see, I could help Calcelmo on his inventions that will help rebuild the parts of this city we have lost”. Larina’s argumentative plea was in desperation, she turned to Aicantar, flashing him a glance, looking for help. 

Joining her side, he replied in solidarity, 

“Larina’s technical drawings are beyond perfection, and would really make a difference in our work. With armed guards and our magick, we could keep her -” The Jarl rose to his feet and interrupted him with a shout

“ **Remember your place, you are here because** **_I_ ** **allow it, if it was not for your uncle you would not be here. I will** **_not_ ** **allow you to jeopardise the life of my** **_only_ ** **niece”** his sentiment and protection was lost on Larina, she could only see red. Aicantar lowered his head in apology and returned to his uncle’s side, who had clearly begun to chastise him in whispers. 

Larina half-turned to leave for a second, before refusing to let it go. Her hands were clenched at her side, and she was beginning to shake. 

“ _ Why? _ ” she asked and as the Jarl regarded her, his face began to redden. 

“I  _ beg _ your pardon?” 

Larina’s voice became shakier in her frustration and she could not hide it. 

“This  _ isnt’t _ fair” she snapped, almost stamping her foot “I am  _ not _ your daughter, do you plan to keep me here locked up in this place forever?” her words began to echo around the room and if it wasn't for her blind frustration she knew she would have been mortified. 

“It was safe enough for me to lead the Justiciar on a tour on my own, so why not this? You can’t control my life  _ forever -” _

“Watch your tone Larina, otherwise I will have Faleen remove you from the room” her uncle spat back, clearly angry at her outburst, but she remained in her place, head held high - defiant. 

Aicantar grabbed her arm gently and pulled her back behind him before addressing her uncle. 

“Jarl I apologise for my comments before, I  _ promise _ you I will not let your niece step foot in Nchuand-Zel, and if she does, then I promise you I will revoke my position and leave Markarth for good”. 

“ _ Traitor _ ” Larina hissed back at him, but Calcelmo pulled her to the side, 

Her uncle nodded and accepted his promise before addressing the students and asking, 

“How soon do you want to enter the ruins?”. 

The sister from before responded, 

“We have already rested at the local Inn, would your men be ready by early evening?”. Her uncle nodded and dismissed them, informing them Calcelmo would assist in the rest of their requirements as he directed them to their laboratory. 

The Jarl dismissed her too and Larina shot him with a look that she wished could kill, Aicantar tried to pull her to follow him but she wrenched her arm from his grasp in defiance. 

Gesturing to his uncle who was heading out of the door, Aicantar flashed her a pleading look and she could not help but follow. The Justiciar trailed after them, followed by his Thalmor companion. 

“I’m sorry” Aicantar apologised, “but I think your uncle is right, I cannot guarantee your safety” Larina returned no answer and was met by a sigh. 

As she entered the laboratory, she saw that the students had gathered around Calcelmo’s desk and regarded her with curiosity. 

“So why would such a pretty little thing lose her head over not being allowed to join us?” the Dunmer joked and Larina felt her face flush. He was met by an elbow in the ribs by the  _ leader _ of their group. 

Settling in her usual seat, Larina replied 

“I’ve put a considerable amount of my time and research into recording dwemer technology and I want to see it first hand” the Dunmer grinned at her response and replied,

“Aren’t you afraid of the Falmer?”. Larina could not stop herself from blurting out,

“ _ Why _ … could you not keep me safe?” Her flirtations made him laugh and she was met by a look of frustration by Aicantar. 

Standing beside her he promised, 

“I will bring you back a  _ lot _ of new things to sketch and once we can guarantee returning to the ruins is safe, I will take you inside,  _ I promise _ ” Larina knew he meant it and could not fault him for her uncle’s decision. She sat in silence, listening as the group began to make their plan and list their provisions before entering the ruins, somewhat thankful that she got to listen in at least. 

“So how many in total are going in?” Calcelmo asked, “we need a record just in case… well in case you all don’t make it out”. There was a pause in their conversation as the older mer said what they were all thinking. 

“Six counting ourselves and Aicantar, how many guards and workers can we expect? The nordic mage, Tholan asked.

“Judging by last time, six guards and four workers” Aicantar responded. 

“Well then that just leaves Estormo...are you certain you still want to join us?” the Nord turned and addressed the Thalmor agent who had not been introduced, somewhat sarcastically. 

“Nelacar ordered my supervision of your research and so unfortunately  _ yes _ ” he spat back before turning to Corrilian and murmuring in elvish. Larina wondered what he had said that caused a smirk spread across their Justiciar’s face. 

As the table continued with the rest of their plan, Larina excused herself, informing them it was probably time for her to leave, lest she got in the way: out of eyeshot of the others, Aicantar had followed after her. Noticing her rubbing the tears from her eyes, hoping the others weren’t watching, he pulled her tightly into a hug. 

“I’m sorry Larina but I  _ will _ keep my promise”. 

Larina rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her dress and sighed “ _ I know _ ” before shoeing him back to the table lest he missed anything important. 

As Larina rounded the corner, darting down the hallway to her room, a sly grin spread across her face. 

They had bought it….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make such detailed plans for my chapters but then they go overboard ;w; I'm afraid I've had to split Chapter Ten in two otherwise it would be too long! but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.
> 
> Also for those re-reading, there have been minor edits made


	11. The Girl in Sheep's Clothing

Once Larina had rounded that corner and realised she was out of earshot, she could not help but let out a giddy laughter. It appeared they had all bought it, she still felt a little embarrassed by her outburst in front of the Jarl, especially in front of the newcomers, but if she had just accepted the decision she knew they would have been more suspicious: and as she saw the newest servant in the Keep, struggling with bringing a wooden box out of the Justiciar’s new room, she realised she could use the re-organisation to her advantage. 

She waited until he lost his grip and dropped the contents all over the floor, before dashing over to help 

“Oh no, you _poor_ thing, here let me help!” and Larina helped him scoop the items off the floor and into the box: they were clearly too old and dusty to belong to the Justiciar, and so she assumed he was moving them elsewhere. 

“You must be new here” Larina flashed her warmest smile “I haven’t seen your face around the Keep before!”. 

“I’m Joric” he smiled back, wiping his hand down his shirt before offering it to her to shake, 

“My father works at Left Hand mine, but now with all the workers turning up, there’s less work for everyone else. I applied for work at the Keep, hoping to help my family, I only heard from them recently and clearly they were desperate because well - “ he gestured to himself, and his clumsiness. 

“We all make mistakes Joric, don’t worry” she shook his hand before replying, “I’m Larina, it's nice to meet you!”. Realising she was a member of the court, a look of concern dawned on his face. 

“I’m so sorry miss, I shouldn’t have bothered you at all” Larina shook her head at his words, hoping to alleviate his worries. 

“Don’t be silly, it looked like you needed some help,” she sealed the box before asking “is this going in here” referring to the Justiciar’s room. 

He shook his head and replied, 

“No no, back down to the kitchens, just push it one side and I’ll take it down soon.” but Larina dismissed him with a wave of her hand,

“Don’t worry I’ll take it,” as he began to protest, she interrupted, 

“Just ask Voada about me, she’ll tell you I won't take no as an answer!” she called over her shoulder, taking the wooden box with her as he passively allowed her to walk away with it. 

**_What a stroke of luck that he appears to be my height as well_ **, Larina thought to herself as she headed to the servants quarters, her plan already whirring into motion. 

She kept a straight face as she lugged the wooden box all the way to the kitchen, greeting the few servants she met politely and briefly, making sure to not to pause and converse. For her plan to work she had to be quick. Larina was glad to see that the kitchen was practically empty as she dropped the box next to several others that were clogging up the space: she had no time to dawdle, knowing that any number of servants could be back in a moment. Larina creeped down the hallway to the servants quarters and paused for a moment at the doorway, peaking through that check it was empty. Once she was sure she would not be caught, she darted into the room, closing the door halfway to shelter her from sight but also allowing her to hear their footsteps if anyone approached. 

Larina took a moment, figuring out what bed would be Joric’s: she knew the men’s quarters were separate from the women, and was glad she was close enough to Voada and the maids that helped her so she could be partial to their conversation. She figured the men’s room was closest to the kitchen as the ladies always complained that they were always frozen and then men too warm. In the room, the smallest wooden bed was closest to the door and therefore closest to the draft: with its tiny chest and paltry straw, Larina figured this must be the new servant’s bed. Opening up his chest Larina felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach, and resolved to touch as little as possible in quest to find a shirt, hoping that the servant would at _least_ have more than one. She found a dirty, slightly holey shirt stuffed to one side, probably disregarded after he was given a new shirt to wear for work, but despite its shabby appearance, this would work perfectly for her plan. 

She folded the item as small as she could managed before discreetly stuffing it into her kirtle, covering the bulge with her arms crossed across her chest: if she was stopped by anyone for her peculiar appearance she’d just tell them she had a stomach ache and felt sick, an excuse to rush back to her room without being stopped. As she fixed her appearance, ready to leave the kitchen, she almost walked into a servant carrying another wooden box in her arms, a few moments earlier and Larina would have been caught. She hoped that her plan wasn’t about to fall to pieces, apologised to the woman and headed back to her room. 

In the hallway, she passed Voada explaining to some other servants where they were supposed to move some items, and she gave Larina a quick smile. She was so fearful that she was about to be caught, that it clearly manifested in a pained, pale look upon her face. 

“My dear you look _dreadful_...get yourself back to your room and rest, I’ll bring you some warm tea soon as I can” Larina thanked her kindness but refused,

“I think I’ll just get some sleep Voada but thank you…”. Even better, if the servants thought she was ill the rumours might get around and explain her absence from the next meal, if she was lucky it could be a few hours before anyone thought she was missing yet. 

As she returned to her room, Larina quickly locked the door behind her and got to work. She pinned her braid to the top of her head, making sure it was secure, before pinning the pieces that often fell around her face up with them: it wasn’t very flattering to her feminine features, and was exactly what she wanted. Larina slipped out of her tunic and kirtle and folded them neatly onto her chair by her bed and wondered what she could wear under her clothes for warmth: with nothing she could use in her wardrobe that wouldn’t make her look too bulky and strange, she reluctantly began to dress, hoping that the pipes that flowed through the Keep to below were an indicator of heat in the ruins. Over her stockings, Larina pulled on a dark pair of hosen and dressed in the tunic she had stolen from Joric’s chest: there was that twinge of guilt again…. If she was caught she would simply return it to him with an apology and perhaps a pastry, but if this succeeded? Well, returning the shirt to Joric on her return was the least of her problems. 

Happy with her appearance, Larina’s mind flashed with a possibility of a problem, what if someone came to her room to check on her? Although explain her lack of voice and convince them of her presence, there was _one_ solution she thought might work. Grabbing a handful of garments from her wardrobe and with one of her pillows, she shaped the figure of her body under her blanket. From where she was standing it was hardly believable, but if she turned off the light and only lit one or two candles around the fireplace, it might just work in the dim light. She grabbed some of the clothing that had fallen onto the floor and scooped them into the wardrobe to tidy up, the servants had never known her to be particularly messy and did not want to leave anything that might convince them something was _wrong_. 

As she found the small cloak that had been given to her amongst hand-me-downs from the ladies of the court, Larina realised that she would not have been able to wear one of her nice cloaks, despite their warmth it would have been too noticeable. This short cloak _however_ , was perfect, slightly too small and well out of season, she hoped it was enough to blend in. She threw it around her shoulders and pulled the hood up, glad that she had sensibly pinned all her hair behind her head. If she kept her head down and barely spoke, she just might be able to get away with this. Larina grabbed a pair of leather gloves and slid them over her hands, she had attempted to dress as boyish as possible, and didn’t want the possibility of her small, feminine hands that had been barely broken by hard work, giving her away. 

With her satchel now slung over her shoulder, Larina peaked out of her bedroom door, waiting for the right moment to slink out and away down the hallway. She waited until the servants were occupied with carrying away a large box between them, that she made her move and snuck away to the laboratory, keeping her head down the entire way. 

She knew she could not head straight in, at least not right away, and decided to wait as conspicuously as possible, for the workers from the warrens to arrive, hoping to merge with the group. Once or twice she was approached by the guards, demanding to know why she was loitering, she lowered her voice as much as it could be believable and replied that she was here for the expedition and was waiting for the others to arrive. It made little sense but they bought it nonetheless, fearful of getting involved lest it meant they were pulled in as extra hands. 

Her cover was almost blown when Eli, wandering around the halls, had caught her scent and bounded over, desperate for attention. Even though she was known for being a friendly mutt throughout the Keep, her excitement towards a would-be hired worker was a little _too_ suspicious. Larina tried to shoo her away several times desperately to no avail, she knew what she needed to do. Stamping her foot directly in front of the dog, missing her paws by inches, Larina called her a " _stupid girl_ " and told her to clear off. The sound of Eli's whimpering and the sight of her lowered tail as she slunk away broke her heart. 

Once she saw the group of tired and fearful looking workers from the warrens being led by the Dunmer student from before, Larina waited until they passed before attaching herself to the group from behind. There was little protestation from those that surrounded her, clearly worriedly thinking about what they were about to face, Larina stepped ahead of one of them, hoping to use them as coverage, hoping that that, alongside keeping her head down, would be enough to keep her features hidden into they were too deep in the ruins for her to be sent back. It was fortunate too, that the workers had been given a few new items of clothing as a form of payment for their work: although not every occupant of the warrens were beggars, many wore an item or two that could not have lasted their journey in and out, she was lucky that she just about blended in. 

She dared to raise her eyes only once, looking around to see where Calcelmo, Aicantar and Corrilian were standing, so she could avoid their gaze. Calcelmo was helping his nephew with a list minute check of his provisions and map, even from where she was stood she could see the look of concern on the older mer’s face. Corrilian and the other agent stood adjacent accompanied by a guard, and clearly muttering something to each other as well. The rest of the students were grouped together, checking their things and each other, as the Dunmer stepped forward to check them over and inform them of their duties. 

“Now, we are making the final preparations before heading into the ruins and I would just like to remind you of a few things” he began, “your jobs are simple, you will help us clear the paths of any rubbish that bars the way, collect the samples of ingredients and technology we request, and _nothing_ more. Even if something looks potentially useful, do _not_ pick it up unless we have specified to do so. We face a number of dangers within these ruins, and as much as can promise to keep you safe, there are a few things _you_ can do to protect yourselves and the group.” Larina could hear them begin to murmur at the thought but the student spoke louder over them and continued. 

“Do _not_ wander from the path we are on, stay as a group and walk as silently as possible. The Falmer are dependent upon their hearing, it is _far_ superior to yours and they _will_ hear you. Do _not_ touch any dwemer technology unless we have proven it is safe to do so, some of these machines have fallen into a hibernation, potentially to reawaken and attack. You are _not_ expected to fight unless it is _absolutely_ necessary for you to do so: we are magickally trained and we are accompanied by several armed guards. If the situation arises where we are under assault, you will group together to make it easier for us to protect you, and to prevent you from being taken by the Falmer”. The thought of them made Larina shudder with fear, almost contemplating abandoning her plan all together, but the thought of finally getting to see Nchuand-Zel and its technology in all its glory was worth it. 

“Finally, as we agreed upon your hiring, you will be paid the other half of your money once we return from the ruins. If the unfortunate happens and we lose somebody, their payment will be made to their family or friends as per their requests. Obviously we want as few accidents as possible, we need as many hands as we can get” he stated so matter of fact and clapped his hands together signifying he was done. Retrieving a box from the nearest stone table, he removed the lid and began handing them all simple, steel daggers for protection. Unlike the last expedition, they had clearly put a bit of thought into guaranteeing their success _and_ returning with some workers at least. As he stopped before Larina his eyes flashed a look of clear recognition. 

_Oblivion_ , she was busted. She opened her mouth to begin stumbling over an excuse to convince him not to rat her out, but he interrupted her with a quick whisper. 

“ _Clearly_ you really want to join us f’lah and I am impressed by your determination, but I won’t let you risk this…” Larina thought he was just about to ask her to leave when he continued 

“Keep your head down, say nothing and when you are caught, because believe me _you will be_ , I knew nothing about you sneaking in...okay?” Larina nodded, accepting his bargain. Larina took the dagger he offered, and clasped it tightly in her hand The small thing did little to alleviate her fear of the Thalmor. But before the Dunmer continued with his jobs, Larina quickly asked,

“So why is Thalmor supervising your expedition”. 

Impressed with her curiosity he quickly explained before moving on,

“They have been watching the college for a while, his supervisor constantly bothered us on our research trips for our teacher Tolfdir, we’ve left the college but because we’re continuing that work, they’re keeping us monitored in case we discover something and don’t inform them…” 

As she heard raised voices ahead and the groaning of the doors of the ruin open, Larina’s legs shook in excitement and fear, they were about to go in. 

Keeping her head down, the group from the warrens ascended the stairs behind the students, Aicantar and their Thalmor agent, flanked on all sides by the few soldiers her uncle would spare. This was it, her plan had _worked_ , she had to work hard to suppress the giddy smile that was dying to break out on her face. 

Until she was roughly pulled to one side by the lone guard. His grip was tight and she almost stumbled at the force, wondering if he used such aggression because she was disguised as a boy. Larina frantically looked up, hoping to see if the group trailing ahead had noticed her removal, but they continued ahead. She hadn’t even made it through the doors. 

The soldier let go of her arm, letting her stumble to the floor. “It was this one wasn’t it sir?” the soldier addressed the Justiciar and Larina heard his response from behind her, not daring to look up. 

“And what if I said no, you’d have to chase after them and retrieve the right one? luckily for you, you were _correct_ ” the Justciar’s drawl was coated in sarcasm. Stepping around her, the Justiciar stood before Larina and regarded her on the floor. Larina wondered if her cover had been blown, but the way he had spoken and allowed her to be manhandled suggested otherwise. 

“You really think we wouldn’t notice an extra person sneaking in? Our numbers were already calculated last night, so I suggest you inform me why you are here and who sent you ephem” Larina had never heard the word before but did not have a chance to figure it out as his words were reinforced by his gloved hand crackling with a purple hue. 

Panic stricken Larina’s words fell out as a garble, unable to explain who she was coherently

“no-one-sent-me-I-joined-because-wanted-to-see-the-ruins” in her brain her response had been comprehensive but it all tumbled out as one inaudible mess. 

The Justiciar turned to the guard and gestured to her with a wave of his hand, “bring _him_ with me”. Before Larina had a chance to brace herself, she was dragged to her feet by her arm, instantly causing her shoulder to ache. Grabbing her back the scruff of her jacket, the guard forced her forward, trailing after the Justiciar to his office: in all of her mortification and fear, the back of mind piped up that she was lucky only a few guards were present in the sanctum to witness. 

As they reached his office, the Justiciar had already entered, leaving the door open, flanked either side by two of his guards. The guard holding onto her pushed her forward, the sudden imbalance causing her to trip over the threshold as he closed the door. Pulling herself to her feet with a groan, the Justiciar issued a harsh 

“ _Sit_ ” and she sunk into the empty seat as he poured himself a drink. 

Larina opened her mouth to garble out an excuse and explain what was really going on, the Justiciar heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose before drawling,

“By _Auri-el_ Larina remove that foolish hood, did you really think I was as stupid as your uncle?”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that some of my comments don't appear straight away or some get missed for some reason, if you have any questions and it appears I have missed them feel free to message me at my tumblr primanoctis
> 
> \-- I'll also be adding little notes to the end of chapters if its been re-editing to improve on criticisms to save people panicking about the mandela effect!


	12. The Blue Dress

As the Justiciar grabbed another fine glass and poured her a drink, Larina let down her hood with a sigh and freed her hair: trapped in the back of her cloak, it hung around her neck, frizzy and wild. 

“How long did you know?” Larina murmured and accepted the glass he offered. 

Corrilian rested his elbow on his desk and lent upon it, lazily responding,

“As soon as you stepped foot in the laboratory”, the one man she planned for and she never stood a chance. She had hoped that he would have been indifferent to her fate and allowed her to continue into the ruins. 

“You never would have let me step through those doors would you?” she asked, taking a sip of the reddish coloured drink: as soon as it hit the back of her throat, she spluttered

“ _God’s_ , what is it?” and coughed into the crook of her arm. 

Despite being hidden by his hand, Larina saw the faint glimmer of a smile. 

“ _Real_ brandy...from Skywatch”. Clearly expensive and meant for refined palettes and yet he had shared it with her, Larina took another sip and tried to prevent herself from coughing again. 

“To answer your question, _no_ ” he finished his glass in one mouthful and lent back into his chair, steepling his fingers together he continued,

“Go ahead... _ask_ ”. 

Larina looked into the bottom of her glass before responding, 

“Would you answer honestly? I mean -” she sounded like a foolish child, like the one she acted in the throne room. “You have every reason to lie to me, you don’t have to tell me -”

“ _No,_ ” he interrupted, much to Larina’s confusion. 

“I’m sorry…?” 

“I wouldn’t _lie_ to you….but maybe... conceal the truth” for a brief second even he looked confused by his response. 

Larina finished her glass and pushed it forward, and the Justiciar refilled it without question. 

“Why couldn’t I join them?” by now, if the gods watched over them, they’d be pushing deeper into the ruins, the beggars from the warrens seeing more than _she_ was allowed. Of course, they had no choice but still it wasn’t _fair_. Hot tears began to cloud her eyes. 

The Justiciar’s gaze dropped to his glass, giving her enough time to rub away her tears - a seemingly deliberate act. 

“For _your_ safety, the expedition depended upon it…” Larina’s eyes narrowed, wondering if he was mocking her. 

She was just about to bite back when he raised his hand, requesting her silence,

“Aicantar and Calcelmo may be boring old fools but they regard _you_ as one of their own. Most _unusual_ for one’s such as our kind” the way he said it was so cold compared to the rest of his words, as if it was a mere fact than personal opinion. 

“If you had been injured or killed, their work would have halted for too long a time, they _need_ to continue their research” he continued and Larina knew that he would not explain the implications of his words. 

“I also can’t have your uncle worrying about your absence or _worse_ , he has enough he has to focus upon”, Larina wondered if her uncle really would worry that much. 

Taking another sip of his brandy, the Justiciar asked,

“stand up for me…” Larina looked at him in confusion. He repeated his words, emphasising them this time with an upward flick of his wrist. 

Larina did as she was told, groaning slightly as she pulled herself upward and was reminded of the dull ache in her shoulder. 

The Justiciar shook his head before speaking,

“I shouldn’t have let him mishandle you _that_ much but…” he didn’t finish his words but merely waved his wrist and Larina felt a strange, warm pulling sensation. 

“It should help…” he answered the question she was thinking, “but I can’t do anything about the bruises I’m afraid”. 

Larina stood there, awkwardly wondering what to say and why he had made her rise before he asked,

“Take off the cloak…” Larina’s stomach flipped, wondering where he was going with his inquisition but took off the small cloak and folded it across the back of her chair. 

He looked her up and down, although she wasn’t entirely filled out as expected of her womanly features, she still felt rather undressed wearing male clothes with hardly any of her proper undergarments underneath - until the Justiciar let out a quick laugh before stifling it with a finger to his lips. 

“You _really_ did make an effort…” Larina’s cheeks reddened as she realised he was laughing at her and she could not suppress her sigh. His eyes rested on the dagger at her hip and

“I was going to suggest you hand _that_ over, but I think you might still find use of it..." Larina wondered what he meant by that but he continued,

I am _impressed_ … you really could have fooled the humans” he gestured for her to take her seat again and asked, “but by Auri-el where _did_ you get that shirt?”.

“Stole it..” she mumbled out her words, hoping he would not hear, the quizzical raise of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. 

“But I’ll return it soon, I promise”. He waved away her words before taking a sip of his brandy, 

“I could care less what you do, but tell me _this_ … why on earth did you want to go in there _so_ badly?”. 

Larina thought for a moment, took a sip of the brandy, now accustomed to its bite and beginning to appreciate its warming affect and replied, 

“I was _curious_ …”

“ _Curious…?_ ”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, 

“I know I sound foolish, I clearly know next to nothing compared to the decades Calcelmo and Aicantar have spent researching, or have the knowledge of those students but -”. Larina felt comfortable enough to tell him the truth, 

“I’ve been surrounded by this stuff for a few years now, practically fixating upon it to stop my brain melting from the boredom. I wanted to _see_ the things Calcelmo and Aicantar had with my own eyes, _real_ treasures, I think the risk was worth it.” Larina finished her brandy with a shrug. 

They sat there for a few moments in silence, before the Justiciar spoke again,

“I see no reason why you cannot keep assisting Calcelmo in the meantime, I’m sure he’ll need you now more so…. I have something I want him to work on after I’ve spoken to the Jarl” again with the elusive comments. As he finished his second glass, Larina almost expected him to pour another before he returned the glass stopper to the bottle. She would have had to decline another glass anyway, the second had already gone to her head. 

“I might also need to speak to you again…” the Justiciar rose from his chair and gestured towards the door, and Larina quickly rose to her feet too. 

She thought for a moment before speaking, 

“ _How_ am I supposed to go out like this? The guards saw you dragging in a scruffy boy for interrogation and now the Jarl’s niece walks out…?” how an earth would she manage to get away with this without Daciana finding out and punishing her. 

“The Markarthain guard will be back to his post, and my soldiers are taught to not ask questions” still he crossed the room to a dark wooden box and removed a cloak and presented it to her. 

“Cover your clothes and walk back to your room _quickly_ and I’m sure you will be free from scandal” he drawled sarcastically, Larina awkwardly bobbed him curtsy and thanked him. 

As she threw it around her shoulders and approached the door to leave, the Justiciar returned to his spot behind his desk. 

As he settled and arranged the papers before him, he called out, 

“I suggest you wear that blue dress from the day I arrived” Larina’s cheeks flushed, wondering if he was about to compliment her before he continued,

“It would easily cover your bruises from before”. Larina sighed before thanking him again, leaving his office and returned to her room. 

Heading back towards her room, Larina found Eli sulking by the base of the stairs, guilt overcoming her, she rushed to the mutt and sank to the floor. 

"I am _so_ sorry old girl, you could not understand why I did it but I promise you it was important" at first the mutt shrunk away from her affections, causing tears to well in her eyes, before she gently licked at her hand. Accepting it as a sign of forgiveness, Larina threw her arms around the mutt and squeezed her tightly, Once Larina had returned to her room, she quickly changed out of her clothes and washed at her basin: She felt…. Drained. Dressing in only her undergarments, she folded her hosen and cloak and stashed them in the bottom of her wardrobe. Holding Joric’s tunic in her hand, she suddenly felt a wave of guilt. She wondered if the poor boy was looking for it, despite its haggard appearance, she knew he probably did not have many options, she had taken advantage of his kindness in the sake of pursuing her own plan. Which did not even come to fruition. 

As she fell back onto her bed to see if she could rest with a nap, she was reminded of her foolish attempt at deceit: she’d never know if it would have worked. Larina sat on the edge of her bed, bundle of clothes in arms, and tried to place the strange feeling in her stomach. The only people who knew of her plan were the Dunmer student - who was trekking through the depths of the ruins, probably hoping she was caught and not dead - and the Justiciar. Neither of which she could confide in and for some reason, she desperately wanted _someone_ to know. 

Larina lay back on her bed and watched the ceiling, before falling into a short, restless nap: awaking more tired than before, she knew what she had to do. 

Dressing in the tunic and kirtle that she had left on her stone chair, Larina folded Joric’s tunic in her arms and headed to the kitchens. The hallway was silent, they had clearly finished their work for the day. As she walked through the Keep, her ears were met with a stifling silence, punctured only by the old dwemer technology that rumbled along. Perhaps it was her imagination making it appear quieter than before, deliberately trying to make her feel _more_ isolated. 

Once she reached the kitchen she was glad to see Anton was busy elsewhere and Voada was fussing over the hearth, Eli by her side. Larina gently rapped on the wood of the entrance, to get her attention and as the older Breton woman turned and gave her a hug, Larina could not help but burst into tears. 

“My! dear, _whatever_ is the matter?” she flashed a look of concern, taking in the younger Breton’s appearance, her gaze settling on the bundle between her arms. 

“C..could I have that cup of tea you offered?” she mumbled between her sobs, Voada embraced her in a brief hug before gesturing for her to take a seat. 

Larina tried to regain her composure as she watched Voada heat some hot water, and poured it over two cupfuls of leaves. Daciana had gone through a phase of wanting to drink _only_ imported teas from Elsweyr but once the fad wore off, the cupboards were still full to the brim, not that Larina and Voada had any complaints. 

Pushing a cup towards her, Voada squeezed the younger Breton’s arm gently and asked, 

“So tell me what’s wrong…”. 

Larina wiped her nose on the sleeve of her tunic, and between sniffles began

“I tried to sneak into the dwemer ruins disguised as a boy but the Justiciar caught me and dragged me to his office and the guard was too rough and hurt my shoulder and I’m all bruised and I ache, and I embarrassed myself in front of the court, in front of the _students_ for what? **For nothing** ” Larina burst into tears again. 

“I’m sorry my dear but before I can comfort you, you’ll have to repeat that **again** . _Slowly_ ” realising how she sounded and seeing Voada trying to suppress her smile, Larina began laughing too. Between sips of her tea, she repeated her story again, slower and in more detail. 

“ _My_ ” Voada responded, raising her eyebrows. “Well I’m glad the Justiciar caught you truth be told, those ruins are _too_ dangerous and by Mara herself you are _lucky_ you weren’t punished more severely” she took a sip of her tea before asking,

“What did the Justiciar say?”. 

In hindsight Larina realised she was lucky that he had not punished her at all, she had heard about how far the patience of the Thalmor lasted. 

“He told me he did not want me risking the expedition and distracting my uncle with my disappearance when he has enough to focus on” Larina left out the rest of their conversation and the _way_ he said it. 

“I’m sure he saw your manhandling as punishment enough, especially for the Jarl’s ward, but don’t count on his kindness a second time” Voada advised and Larina nodded in agreement as she finished her tea. 

Larina rose from her seat and wrapped her arms around the older Breton, hugging her tightly. “ _Thank you_ for listening to my griping..I had to tell _someone_ otherwise it would have driven me crazy…”. Voada patted her on the arm and told her not to worry about it. 

As Larina headed out of the door, Voada called after her,

“Don’t worry about the _boy_ either, the simple thing probably didn’t even realise you had taken his shirt, but promise me one thing…” Larina turned in the doorway to face her. “Don’t _ever_ take advantage of the younger servants again.” her words were a warning and their harshness took her by surprise. Larina nodded meekly in agreement. 

“If you need something, come to _me_ ” and Voada waved her off with a half smile. 

  
Returning to her room, Larina knew she was right: it wasn’t fair for her to use her position to take advantage of the servants and vowed she would not do it again. Wrapping her blanket around her shoulders, she headed for her balcony and settled herself into the watch the view for a while: if this was a tiny taste of playing the court’s game, she was tired of it already. As she watched the grey skies and soft drizzle over the Reach, she wondered what the Justiciar’s view from his larger balcony was like. **_He may be disappointed that it's mostly always grey_ ** , Larina thought, **_but a sad view is better than none at all_ ** _._ As the bones in her back began to ache, and the air began to cool, Larina headed back inside to dress for the evening meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this story was only going to be 30 chapters long ;w; boy was I wrong  
> pls in the comments, bully me for writing chapters that I realise during editing need to be cut into two chapters because I am a goofball!!


	13. Ephemeral

Larina stood before her wardrobe in just her undergarments, deciding what to wear. The Justiciar’s words rattled around her head, wondering if she should take his advice. He was right about the bruises though, they would only see the ones on her upper right arm but they were enough to look suspicious and raised questions. That blue dress he mentioned was one of the few that was long-sleeved. Larina decided to wear the dress, trying to not think about it too deeply, wondering if the Justiciar would make a comment. She decided to style her hair differently for a change - grabbing the thickest layer of hair, Larina tied it to the top of her head in a messy bun, the curls that were left underneath were a lot less frizzy and presentable. Wearing her amulet of kynareth again, she left the silver earrings in her jewellery box - hoping to avoid one less conversation with Thonar. 

She was interested to see who would be joining them for the meal this evening, wondering whether Nchuand-Zel would finally become a topic of interest: despite its proximity and the work of Calcelmo, the court of Markarth had very little interest in what lay beneath their city. When Larina arrived at the dining table, she found the Justiciar already seated, wine glass in hand and conversing with the Jarl. It was evident that he had no interest in wearing his robes to the table, preferring to dress in his own personal arraignment and this evening was wearing something similar to the last: only this time his jacket lay open, exposing his dark tunic underneath. He sat at a crooked angle in his seat, his right leg crossed over his knee, his position revealing a small piece of his collarbone and chest. Faintly in the light Larina could see what appeared to be the jagged lines of scars crossing over his collarbone, dipping back underneath his collar. She had clearly spent too long drinking in his appearance as his gaze caught hers and flicked over her. He gave her a quick nod, and she assumed it was because she had taken his advice in regards to her appearance. 

Larina waited until she was shown to her seat by the steward: it appeared all the noble families would be present again this evening and she could not help but wonder why. This evening she was happy to discover that although she had to sit across from Thonar, he was not seated within touching distance. Daciana and the steward had taken their usual seats, but this time the Justiciar and Calcelmo were seated by their sides. Larina herself had Calcelmo on her right and Kerah to the left of her, hoping that these new arrangements would be used by the steward again. 

She was quick to discover why, once dinner had begun to be served - a meal of stew, potatoes, bread and red wine. Calcelmo poured her a glass with a smile before whispering to her, 

“The Justiciar has brought this one with him, an _altermeris_ wine, I think he’s sick of what Markarth has to offer…”. There were a few things the Justiciar did not like about the place and she could somewhat understand. If he had no set knowledge of how long he was stationed here, it was little wonder he wanted to incorporate a few _changes_ to suit the comfort he was used to. 

Larina brought the glass to her lips and took the smallest sip, surprised by its warmth and flavour- of what she could only assume to be blackberries and some other fruit she could not place , she had not tasted a wine like it before. 

“I have had some thought of your suggestions Corrilian, conferring them with the steward and my wife - who is certainly on board” the Jarl spoke between mouthfuls of stew. 

“Once this Forsworn problem is under control I am sure I can spare some men for the work, but do you have any concept of the time it will take and what you might need?”. Larina was curious as to what her uncle was referring to until Calcelmo answered. 

“I have already written letters ready to be sent to request the room designs, from the information that Corrilian has provided I am sure myself, with the assistance of Larina’s sketches, can come up a general idea for you” at his words Larina sat up, curious as to what project she would be involved in. 

“Most of the dwemer technology we need is already present in the location we have discerned and the rest can be found in rooms around the Keep, the main problem we have is removing the rubble from the abandoned rooms and making sure they are safe for use”. Larina’s curiosity got the better of her and could not help but ask,

“Why… what are you planning on working on?”. Daciana flashed her niece a sly smile, happy that her niece had missed these private conversations. 

“ _Corrilian_ had been enquiring about our bathing facilities and was surprised that we did not have a bathing room, apparently they’re becoming all the rage at the moment amongst _our_ class”. Yes, Larina had heard about these rooms: a bathing house minimised to one room for the private use of its inhabitants, it did sound a lot more appealing than sharing the two iron tubs amongst themselves. She was not surprised that they had agreed to such a change, Daciana was a slave to trendiness, if the noble families of Solitude were doing it, she was not going to miss out. 

“We’ve managed so far without them, are they really necessary now? And where would the cost for them come from?” Thonar interrupted, clearly not impressed by the idea.

“Is sharing a bathing tub with several people _your_ idea of cleanliness?’ Corrilian responded, not even turning to face Thonar as he spoke. “I have heard rumours of a fever spreading in the Reach, though I have received no confirmation yet, cleanliness certainly can keep it at bay and I certainly have no interest in dying here”. 

“I think that is just as achievable with a basin and a jug of fresh water every morning” Thonar bit back, “if privacy is what you want, have the servants bring the tub to your room”, Corrilian regarded him with curiosity, Thonar was eager to engage him in an argument in front of everyone but the Justiciar refused to bite. 

“ _Enough_ Thonar,” the Jarl interrupted with a tiresome sigh, “the fact we have left these rooms to ruin in the Keep does not exactly present Understone as a powerful and esteemed Keep compared with the rest of Skyrim. If your proposal with the Silver-Smith’s works as well as _you_ say it will, cost will not be an issue” her uncle refilled his glass, evidently becoming bored of the conversation. 

Larina turned to Kerah, wondering what her uncle meant and Kerah murmured to her, 

“We are opening our store _sooner_ than we expected, Thonar has an investment in Arnleif and Sons now - the owner, the poor woman, could not refuse his offer, since her husband died her trade and shop have begun to falter. With the Silver-Blood’s, and our involvement, the company will be involved in importing and exporting our silver and jewelry to Skyrim’s wealthiest. Your uncle did not want _him_ to have complete control over the city’s stores but the clever bastard as found a way around it” Kerah took a sip of her wine before continuing, “not that we can complain, it will help us in the long run too, trading our jewellery will be one less thing we’ll need to worry on, we’ll have more time to follow the trends of what is popular”. 

A lot of change was coming to Markarth, and Larina wondered if it truly was for the better. 

With the meal over, they all rose and headed into the Great Hall as usual, but rather than sitting with her aunt (and enduring her spiteful comments) Larina slid into a seat at Calcelmo’s empty table. She wondered if he heard about her attempt to sneak into the ruins, but so far he had said nothing. 

“I’m sorry couldn’t have gone with them Larina, we just could not guarantee your safety, once they are cleared and safe, you’ll be the first to go” Calcelmo reassured her, clearly still remembering her outburst from earlier. 

“I probably would have gotten in the way anyway” Larina sighed, “I know nothing of magicka, and sketching won’t clear the paths, I would have been pretty useless until the end of the trip really” her words were to reassure _herself_ more than anything. 

Calcelmo shook his head and before he had a chance to respond, her aunt called her over, noticing her absence from their table: Larina apologised and excused herself. 

“I can’t imagine talking about _pipes_ is really that interesting?” Daciana mocked, pouring herself another glass of wine. Her aunt was no stranger to the bottle, but it appeared that her aunt was turning to it more frequently. Perhaps a few years earlier Larina would be more inclined towards concern, the time living under her aunt’s spite had taken its toll. 

Preventing her from making an excuse, Daciana continued, 

“Leave those _boring_ conversations until tomorrow” before calling over to Thonar, 

“You said you had a _new_ bard introduce...well where is he?”. Thonar had been standing at the table adjacent, conversing with the Jarl, steward, Endon and the Justiciar: Larina wondered what they had been talking about, the pack of cards that the steward had fetched remained untouched. 

It was evident from Thonar’s reaction that he was becoming more visibly annoyed by Daciana’s behaviour as the evening wore on, not that he was allowed the possibility of commenting on it. 

“I have sent a guard to fetch him from the inn, he usually spends the night’s singing in there, but since _you_ want a bard that is less rough, I have had to send for him”. 

Larina could not pretend that she wasn’t interested in finally hearing some music in the Keep, there was something distinctly missing between the sound of chatter and the hum of dwemer technology. Larina drank her wine slowly, savouring its taste, as the bottles provided with their meal had all been drunk and they resorted back to the alto wine they were usually served. After a while of zoning in and out of aunt’s conversation, wondering what was going on at the other table now that Calcelmo had joined them, Larina’s interest only picked up when the new bard was bought before the court. 

Wearing a combination of clothes that were either too big or too small, he stood awkwardly waiting to be introduced, holding a shabby, red and gold painted lute in his hands. 

“Ah! Here he is...” Thonar crossed the room to him and gestured for him to stand closer before introducing him, 

“This is Jesper, the bard from the Inn, here until you become _bored_ of him” Thonar asserted to Daciana. The young Nord looked uncomfortable but asked for requests nonetheless. Receiving no comments and encouraged by Thonar, he began to work through his repertoire, beginning with Ragnar the Red. Larina was thankful when Thonar did not linger by the table, returning to the other men to begin their card game, and so she sat sipping her wine slowly and tapping her foot along to the singing. Even she, with little musical capabilities, could tell that his lute was a _little_ off-key but enjoyed the sound nonetheless. 

She hadn’t realised that the Justiciar had come to stand behind her until he answered the question her aunt asked. 

“ _My_ what a strange amulet you wear Corrilian, pray tell who is it representative of?” Larina turned in her seat at Daciana’s words, not realising he had been stood so close. 

She had missed its appearance at the dining table, and Larina took no shame in tilting her head and examining it. Attached to a thin, silver chain, Larina noticed that an almost turquoise moonstone sat in the middle, accompanied by two silver crescents on either side. She had never seen anything like it either. 

“ _Phynaster '' he_ responded **dryly** “ _our_ hero-god of longevity” his hand came to rest on the back of Larina’s chair, and she felt her pulse quicken in response. 

“My apologies for interrupting ladies” he stated, turning to Daciana “but I need to borrow your niece briefly, Calcelmo told me she is quite informed about the ceiling’s fresco and I have a few questions to ask her…” the Justiciar walked off as Daciana opened her mouth, probably to inform him that she was just as knowledgeable. Larina responded to her aunt’s glare with a small shrug as the Justiciar gestured for her to follow after him to the centre of the room. 

Larina joined his side as he was staring upwards, and although they were out of her aunt’s earshot, she still spoke in a lowered tone,

“I’ve already told you all I know about the fresco….” confusion beset upon her face. 

“I know…” he responded curtly “but I had to get away from their conversations, they were so _dull_ ” he took a sip from his glass and Larina watched him for a moment. Why did he feel comfortable enough around to say such things? She could not help but wonder if it was genuine, or if she was being played. 

Gesturing to the ceiling as she spoke, in case Daciana had her beady eyes upon them, she asked,

“Why haven’t you told anyone about my….well about my fiasco this morning” he may have well done, but the fact that no one had commented about it bolstered her assumption. 

“It mattered not" she felt stung, was her plan so obvious from the beginning, maybe she wasn’t a valuable enough member of court to cause ripples in the water. 

“Do you have any other questions?”He crossed his arms over his chest and began circling her, eyes still on the fresco.

Larina remembered something he had said, when the guard dragged her off the floor, in their meeting she was going to ask him what it meant, but forgot completely. 

“Earlier on, when I was being marched to your office you called me a - ” her voice faltered as his gaze dropped from the ceiling to her face. 

“ _Go on_ ….”

She shook her head and began again,

“You called me an _ephem_...I don’t know what it means”. 

The Justiciar looked away for a moment, before stepping towards her and responding,

“It’s short for _ephemeral_ , how we refer to those whose lives are _fleeting_ compared to our own”. His words caused a strange feeling to ripple in her stomach and she paused for a moment before asking,

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Corrilian took a sip of his brandy and smirked, “how old do you think I am?” and began circling her again. 

Larina groaned, “I’m not very good at guessing the ages of _your_ kind” she had not planned for her words to sound so blunt. 

“Guess anyway” he was encouraging her and she did not know if her guess would be considered offensive. 

Shrugging she replied, “I don’t know… maybe in your sixties?”. 

“I’m appalled…” the Justiciar purred back, “anything less than one hundred is considered quite immature for _our kind_ ” he smirked, taking another sip of his drink. But answering her question nonetheless he replied,

“On my last birthday I was just shy of two hundred and thirteen”. Larina raised her eyes in astonishment,

“You _really_ don’t look it” she knew the elves did not age as fast as them but even so, for someone of _his_ age she would have expected him to look a bit older. 

Corrilian said nothing in response, but crossed the small distance between them in a few steps: for a mere second he placed his hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her to return to the others and followed after. As quickly as his hand was there, it was gone again, Larina instantly missed the warmth of his hand on her back. If she had turned around quick enough to glance at him, she would have seen him flex his hand before quickly dropping it to his side. 

“I hope _she_ was able to answer all of your questions Corrilian?” Daciana asked, regarding him over her wine glass, now joined by Thonar and his daughter. He gracefully sank into a chair opposite her, crossed his leg over her knee and responded with a curt “ _yes_ ”. Larina hovered awkwardly at the side, until Daciana shot her a look of annoyance and she sunk into a seat beside Kerah. 

“Is it true what you said about fever in the Reach?” her aunt shot him a look of concern. The Justiciar shifted in his seat, his head lazily resting on his arm and responded, 

“We have received a few reports yes, probably not assisted by the fact that the Reach has a significant amount of bandit camps alongside _other_ complications, it is a breeding ground for fever and the like” he sounded almost bored with his answer and Larina knew with the way he had said it, that they weren’t going to learn what those complications were. 

She hoped with their plans at expanding the rooms of the Keep that she would be involved in the work and kept busy. Larina’s imagination wandered at the possibilities, maybe this could be her way of getting out of here...

“Thonar has had an idea my dear that I think is quite _wonderful_ ” Daciana’s voice interrupted her thoughts, there was no escaping this woman. “He would like to commission you to draw Liesel for him, I thought sketching people might be far more interesting than old piping”. Her aunt was determined to prevent her from being involved in anything she was interested in. Still, it had been a long time since she had practiced drawing portraits, even if it meant spending more time with Thonar. 

Larina nodded, “alright….once I have spent the morning working with Calcelmo I could spare a few hours in the afternoon on it” thinking quickly she also added. “I think the light here might be better, the room is more open” anything to avoid spending time on her own in his house. 

She knew he had no choice but to agree and so accepted, sensing she would not have agreed if he said otherwise. 

Noticing the Justiciar’s glass was almost empty, Daciana summoned a servant to fetch more wine, this time including Larina in the order: but she held her hand over her cup and declined. 

“Actually...I’d much prefer a glass of brandy”. 

Daciana scoffed, “since when have _you_ drunk brandy?” and rolled her eyes. 

Larina shrugged slightly as the table all stared at her. “I just fancied a change….”. 

A servant brought over an open bottle of wine and began refilling the empty glasses, whilst another brought Larina a clean glass and poured her and the Justiciar a drink. 

He maintained his silence, only joining the conversation when asked a question and answering as curtly as possible. Tiredness had begun to sneak into Larina but she had no willpower to leave like she normally would, too content enduring the boring conversations because she was in Corrilian’s company. 

It was only as Daciana began falling asleep where she sat that they all decided to call it a night and wished each other a good sleep. They all began to filter out of the Great Hall together, Thonar caught up with her steps and walked alongside her, 

“I am very much looking forward to _our_ afternoon together” his hand grazing the small of her back as he bade her a good night. Larina repressed her shudder, hoping the memory of his touch would not contaminate her one of Corrilian before. 

As Larina passed him and Calcelmo, conversing together in the inner sanctum, she bobbed a quick curtsy and wished them a goodnight. 

“You do look like you need some rest Larina, you are awfully pale” Calcelmo responded, his words touched with concern. 

“Some good sleep will do wonders I am sure...it’s been a long day” the older mer’s face flashed with a look of confusion at her words, and the Justiciar briefly brought his gaze to hers. 

Bidding them farewell, Larina left them where they stood and walked slowly down the hallway to her room, the thought quickly popping into her head that soon she would not be walking them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah I'm so sorry, this wip is going to be longer than I expected, I can't stop writing ;w;


	14. Dwarven Cleanliness

Larina stared pitifully at her breakfast tray on the table, no appetite to eat: she had even been provided with a bowl of those lovely dates but still they remained untouched. She had no motivation to dress and head to the laboratory, even with the excitement of being involved in an active project with dwemer technology. The idea was tainted by the fact she had agreed to dedicate her afternoon to the Silver-Blood’s. _It’s good practice for profiles_ , she attempted to motivate herself, to no avail. Why had she not come up with an excuse on the spot, she mentally chastised herself. But Larina knew _why_ , her mind had been occupied with something else, or rather _someone_. 

The feeling of his warm hand on the small of her back flitted back into her mind, wishing that he had held it there a second longer. He probably had no understanding of how it had affected her, she was just as confused herself. Why was he invoking these feelings in her? She knew barely anything about him, and she doubted that would change at all. What’s more, why would a cultured mer like himself have any interest in someone as  _ fleeting _ as her? She doubted his position in the Thalmor would allow it anyway. Larina tried to shake the feelings, knowing it would not end well.

By the gods, the first person  _ ever _ to occupy her thoughts so much and it had to be  _ him _ . In  _ this _ godsforsaken city. 

Larina dressed slowly and reluctantly in a simple, birch coloured dress and her brown boots, the half-bun on her head remained in place, luckily. Apart from washing and combing through the rest of her hair, she did very little to change her appearance. Even the thought of seeing  _ him _ did not encourage her to over-dress. Unpractical for the work she planned to do. Even despite the lit fire, that was beginning to burn low in the hearth, there was a chill in the air and she decided to grab her shawl to take with her. Heading to her wardrobe, Larina spotted the cloak the Justiciar had given her, draped across the back of her stone chair. Black with a simple silver embroidery, she knew it was his when she raised it to her face and smelt it: his familiar scent of smoke, wood and something unplaceable. She had already begun to be able to differentiate between his own personal arraignment and that of the Thalmor, he clearly had a preference for silver. Larina knew she had to give it him back but did not want to bring it with her to the laboratory in case of dirtying it. She had an excuse now to visit his office. 

**_No_ ** , she mentally reprimanded herself. She knew she needed to stop this before it progressed any further and she embarrassed herself. After her meeting with Thonar she would return to her room and retrieve and quickly give it back. Better yet, she could see Voada, make amends with Joric and ask her to return it for her. Larina shook her head at the thought, even with a lie she knew Voada would see right through, wondering why she had it in the first place. 

Gods, if someone were to see her right now, muttering to herself in her room they would think she was mad. 

Larina brought her breakfast tray out into the hallway, leaving it outside the door for a servant to collect, turning at the last minute to pick up the dates and stuff them into a handkerchief in her pocket in case she was hungry later. She saw some of the servants busying themselves with the rest of the rooms in the hall. Spotting her, an elderly nord called out,

“We promise we’ll be finished by this evening miss, hopefully the noise has not bothered you too much…”. 

Larina reassured her with a smile, “not at all, I slept like a log…”  _ she had barely slept at all _ . Curious, she asked, “how many rooms have been made available”, wondering what exactly they were like. 

Glad for a justifiable moment to take a break, the older woman approached her and answered, 

“Three, including the Justiciar’s. His is like three unto itself anyways” the woman sighed, “a bedroom with space for dining and a separate study room, he was even provided with an alchemy table” Larina wondered why he would request one at all. 

Glancing down the hallway, she noted there were in fact  _ four _ golden doors, now polished and clean. She had never had a reason to trail further down the hall, now illuminated by the lights on the wall. “So what is in the other room? She asked, confused. 

“Ah.. well the steward says the room is  _ too _ small to be turned into a bedroom, its set lower in the mountains and without proper plumbing is too cold even with the fire lit” the woman responded. 

“So why is it being renovated?” Larina pried. 

“Well it's roomy enough for a meeting room or storage I suppose, but the balcony is worth it. It took us hours yesterday to prise those doors open, closed for gods knows how long. The balcony is certainly quite big, a perfect view overlooking the mountains, we even sat there for our lunch” her words made Larina smile, happy that she was not the only enamoured with the beauty of the Reach.

Apologising for taking up her time, Larina thanked her over her shoulder and headed towards the laboratory. She was surprised to find the larger of the Justiciar’s wolves playing with Eli in the inner sanctum, now happy to see her after her apology. Larina gave them both a fuss, and when they began to trail after her, she tried to shoo them off to no avail.  _ I hope Calcelmo will be happy to see you both too _ , she mused to herself. 

“I see you have two shadows this morning Larina”, Calcelmo did not miss a thing and Larina slid into a chair opposite him. 

“Could not shake them  _ at all _ ” Larina lied, she had barely made an effort in the first place, “But I can get rid of them if you like?”

The older mer shook his head finally looking up from his notes and replied, 

“Just make sure they don’t get in the way” casting his gaze over the pair he clearly remembered the wolf-dog was the Justiciar’s and continued,

“You wouldn’t be able to return her to Corrilian anyway, he’s been in a meeting with your uncle since early this morning” the tone in his voice shifted, concern creeped into her mind and she gestured for him to go on. 

“The Justiciar has received a handful of reports from his agents in Rorikstead and Falkreath that there have been attacks to various mines and smaller homesteads by  _ Afflicted _ bandits”. 

Larina shook her head in confusion, “I don’t understand what that is…” but knew it was something serious. 

“Some followers of the Daedric Prince Peryite allow themselves to become infected by a disease of his making, vomiting a foul substance that is toxic  _ and _ can infect others in close proximity”.

Larina shuddered, “it sounds awful but why would they knowingly subject themselves to such a fate?”. She knew that many people chose to follow the daedric princes, there was less shame in it amongst the Altmer, than the human’s, Larina wondered what the Justiciar’s opinion of it was. 

“His followers believe they are cleansing Tamriel with their sickness, strange I know, but most of these people are shunned by society as it is”. 

“Is this connected with the Forsworn raids, are they using it as a weapon” something like that would certainly be frightening and unstoppable for regaining footholds in the Reach. 

Calcelmo shook his head, “from these early reports it would appear not, more likely that they are  _ fleeing _ the infected”. Larina thought on his words for a moment, thinking of those that had not made it out of the mines in Karthwasten alive. She was not surprised that the Forsworn had fled in fear, looking for somewhere within their own land that was safe. But was killing innocent miners necessary? Then again, would they have allowed them sanctuary, even if they told them what was happening? 

“And my uncle wants to eradicate them….” Larina sighed, her words hanging heavy in the air. “These groups of Forsworn are not organised, not completely” she continued, “not since Madanach’s death, they are looking for safety, for  _ sanctuary _ . I hope my uncle can understand this and offer it to them, allowing them protection within the city in exchange for work”. Calcelmo said nothing, and she knew what he was thinking. As nice as the sentiment was, there was already too much bad blood between Markarth and the Forsworn: the Forsworn were proud people, they would not ask for help unless they were desperate. 

Putting his notes down, Calcelmo gestured for Larina to grab a notebook and follow him, “let me show the room we have in mind for our new bathing rooms”. Grabbing her things, Larina followed after him, Eli and Potema at her heels. 

“Are you not dulled by the prospect of this work? Larina asked, “surely it can’t be as interesting as your research?”. 

“It will be interesting to see the dwemer technology being put into  _ practical _ use” he responded, “I am sure they had utilised water heating systems from what I have seen in the ruins, our experiment will certainly be a window into that”. Larina had not thought of it that way, 

Larina followed after him, out of the laboratory and into the inner sanctum: they ascended the stairs towards the Jarl’s throne room, turning down the left hand corridor towards the guest rooms and private quarters. In the distance she could hear the sound of her uncle’s voice, heated in argument but the words indistinguishable. She paused for a moment before continuing after Calcelmo. Rather than ascending the stairs to the private rooms, they entered a small doorway and followed its staircase downwards, towards where Larina had always assumed was more servants quarters, the hall now illuminated with the lights on the wall lit. 

Passing several doors, they stopped before the large, ornate one, encompassing most of the wall at the end of the hall. 

“We decided that this room was large enough to suit our purpose” and he held the door open for her to follow. 

Stepping into the room, Larina saw that it had been lit by several torches that had been left behind, the lights on the wall unlit. 

Seeing her squint in the dim light, Calcelmo informed her,

“We are still working on getting the light’s to work”. 

Larina looked around her, despite the heaps of rubble and exposed piping that occasionally vented steam into the room, it seemed perfect for the project. 

Directing her to a large enough stone to sit upon, Calcelmo informed her of what to sketch as he spoke,

“The plan is to split the room in two, each with identical compartments” each word was punctured with the gesturing of his hands. “Stepping into the room, visitors will be met with two doors and a servant informing what rooms are available, to prevent the possibility of walking in one someone bathing” Larina shuddered at the thought of seeing her family so exposed. “Behind the door will be a curtain just in case and then in the centre of the room will be the bathing pool. Utilising the plumbing system already available and the waterfalls above ground, we will build a few mock stones for the water to flow out of into the pool, and a mechanism at the front to drain out the dirty water. At the back of the room will be more curtains, sheltering the changing area and behind that a storage space connecting the two rooms, for the benefit of the servants”. Larina attempted to keep up with Calcelmo’s words, hoping she had sketched it adequately, knowing if she could refine it if needs be. 

“Hearing the Justiciar describe the ones from our homeland and the ones present in Solitude, your aunt has requested that it follows a similar Aldmeris style”, Larina wondered at her aunt’s sudden interest in the elven culture, but knew all the same how pleasant it would look. 

“Once you have the resources and budget for it, how long do you think it take to complete?” Larina asked, chewing on the end of her pencil. 

“Hopefully, no more than a month” the older Mer responded, referring to his notes. Larina could not wait, as extravagant as the project was, the thought of bathing in hot waters surrounded by luxury was extremely _appealing_ to her. 

Even from where she was sat, Larina heard Calcelmo’s stomach grumble,

“My apologies, I was too busy for breakfast this morning” Larina reached into her pocket and offered him the dates from her handkerchief. 

“Are those dates?” he smiled fondly, “I have not had them in a  _ long _ time” he took one from her hand and popped into his mouth. 

“The Justiciar brought them with him, as a gift I suppose, but apparently no one else in the Keep likes them apart from us” she shrugged, eating one too. 

Finishing his mouthful, the older mer responded, “they are not exactly cheap to import but worth it nonetheless”. Sharing them out between them, they enjoyed the fruits in silence, Calcelmo refusing to accept the last one. 

Handing him the rough drawing of his idea, Larina apologised, “Sorry to leave you Calcelmo, but I need to go meet the Silver-Blood’s soon in the Great Hall, Thonar has asked me to draw his daughter” she could not think of a worse way to spend her afternoon. “But if you really need me this evening, I can return and help you” 

Calcelmo shook his head, “it’s quite alright my dear, try to enjoy yourself nonetheless” clearly sensing her frustration. 

She turned to him and asked, “I assume you have heard  _ nothing _ from the depths of the ruins?” and he simply shook his head in response. All they could do was hope that they were all still safe… until they did not return. 

“ _ Hang on a moment! _ ” Calcelmo called after her as she rose to leave, pulling two silver, spherical objects from his pocket. Handing them to her he stated, “one for  _ yourself _ and one for  _ Thonar _ ”. Larina eyed them with confusion,

“What in Tamriel are they?” and Calcelmo pressed the small button on the top, allowing it to spring open. Looking inside, Larina saw that numerals were written in a circle and she quickly deduced that they represented the hours in the day. One thin piece of metal pointed at the twelfth numeral and the other, slowly creeped along. 

“Did  _ you _ make this?” the olde mer nodded at her response and replied,

“Yes, from the silver that Thonar gifted me. I have seen bigger versions of timepieces in the Dwemer ruins, powered by soul gems. It's taken me awhile to miniaturise them, but it has finally worked. One for Thonar, to thank him for the silver and for  _ yourself _ to help you be on time” he teased, Larina was lost for words. 

“Calcelmo they are magnificent” she replied in awe. 

He merely tutted and responded, “just a simple reworking” but the look on his face showed he knew this was a significant discovery. 

“Something else the city could trade alongside silver and jewellery” he added, the timepieces ticked along in her hand and Larina knew these items would become very popular. 

“He’d be a fool not to see their genius” Larina smiled at him before bidding him farewell, apologising again, the dogs following close behind. Returning down the hallway and back to the entrance to the throne room, she noted that it had grown quieter from before: once they reached the inner sanctum, Eli darted off, probably in search of food, but Potema remained diligently at her side. Scratching behind the wolf’s ear, Larina murmured, “you can wander off too…”. She probably looked insane, talking to a wolf, but still Potema persisted in following after her to the Great Hall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A boring, world-building chapter I'm afraid. I was going to save this until tomorrow and publish two but all of you have been so kind to continue reading and leaving me comments and I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long!


	15. Shades of Purple

Larina walked the rest of the route to the Great Hall as slowly as possible, her hand buried in Potema’s fur: the wolf reached up to her hip in height, and her presence made her feel somewhat reassured. Perhaps it was the heat of the steam leaking out of the dwemer pipes, but Larina suddenly realised she felt distinctly cold. Remembering that she had left her shawl in the laboratory, she decided to make a quick diversion, supported by her excuse. She had found it where she left it, draped across her wooden stool but Larina lingered for a moment, staring up at the golden door in the distance. 

Any thought of rushing up those stairs, now with Potema by her side, was now crushed. A silly idea really, gods knows how deep they had gotten,  _ or if they were still alive _ . Larina shook her head at the thought, trying to dispel it quickly. She knew that Aicantar was smart, he had made it out of the ruins before, and now he was accompanied by more people than ever. Gifted students of magicka and guards to protect them. She knew he would make it out alive. She did not want to think otherwise. 

Before leaving the laboratory reluctantly, Larina wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and grabbed a few rolls of parchment and a handful of charcoal and brought them with her. She had not brought much of her sketching equipment with her when she left High Rock, it had been the last thing on her mind and something she had regretted. There was no-where to buy such things and she had no knowledge of how she could have it ordered: she was sure she had asked her aunt once, in the first few months after her arrival, the message had never been passed on, and now she was far more accustomed to drawing with charcoal. 

Once she reached the Great Hall, Larina was mildly surprised to find that Thonar and his daughter weren’t already waiting, hoping they would not be too late. Setting her things down on the stone table closest to the centre, Larina looked around the room for two wooden chairs, and spent a few moments positioning them adjacent to each other, hoping to get the right amount of light for her work. The wooden seats would not be comfortable for either of them especially if they were sat in them for  _ too  _ long, but Larina did not know  _ exactly _ what Thonar had wanted done, he had never specified. 

Potema trotted around the room, tail wagging and sniffing out anything she could find. Larina was still confused by the fact that the Justiciar had brought them with him in the first place, his mannerisms did not exactly entertain the idea: their previous Justiciar had made it quite clear to keep the mutt’s of Understone away from him. Larina watched as Potema paused mid-sniff and quickly came running back to her side, standing before her almost as if she was ready to defend her. 

Quite soon after, Thonar entered the room, gesturing for his daughter to keep up, she did not look entirely pleased to be there. Despite her callousness in copying Edurne, clearly influenced by Daciana’s hand, Larina really did feel sorry for Liesel. Even after the violent and sudden death of her mother, Thonar had hardly paid more attention towards the poor girl, it seldom appeared that he even acknowledged her presence. Larina was quite surprised he wanted a portrait of her in the first place. 

“ _ Gods _ , what is that thing doing here”, Thonar muttered and Larina watched as he carefully scanned the room before looking over his shoulder. She found the behaviour quite odd and responded, 

“She followed me in and so far she’s been no problem,  _ I _ quite like her company” stating quite matter of fact. 

The unsease on Thonar’s face did not relent, 

“As long as it's not vicious…. There’s something about the eyes I don’t trust, never seen a thing like it in all of Skyrim”. Larina was quite surprised by his paranoia and remarked, 

“It's a  _ wolf _ Thonar, not a spy… she can’t exactly talk” the sarcasm in her voice caught them both by surprise, and she dropped her gaze to the floor as he shot her a funny look. 

Gesturing to the wooden seat in the middle of the room, Larina explained

“I’m sorry it's not more comfortable Liesel but I made do with what was available and movable in the room, once I know what your father is interested in I’ll know how long this will take and can make arrangements for your comfort”. The little, pale-faced nord said nothing in response. Her haughty and gaunt face was not the ideal muse and Larina sighed before turning to her father. 

“I am not quite sure  _ what _ exactly you are interested in me doing?” At her words he shot her a sly look and she shuddered to know what he was thinking. He crossed the space between them in a few, brief steps, stopping too close to her for comfort. 

“Something rather grand I should think, to capture her mother’s beauty…” Larina simply nodded, Liesel Silver-Blood had  _ certainly _ inherited things from both of her parents, beauty was not one of them.  _ She does not deserve your cruelty _ , Larina thought to herself and she knew the sensible part of her brain was right. She’s just a child easily corrupted by her peers, Edurne was the only person who paid a semblance of attention towards her, no wonder she latched onto her.  _ But you can say the same about yourself and Calcelmo _ .

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Larina responded with a shrug,

“I really do not have  _ any _ of the tools required for the job” and gestured towards her scraps of parchment and pieces of charcoal. “If that’s what you really want, you’ll need to find someone who can bring me pigments and proper parchment to complete it on…” if she was going to be expected to spend so many hours with Thonar, she wanted some reward for it. 

“...I really would be grateful if you could, I haven’t really had the right kind of materials in such a long time and charcoal can only do so much” Larina almost began to feel physically sick at the sweetness in her voice. But it clearly worked, as he flashed her a flattered smile before responding,

“It would be my pleasure, of course you would be paid for your time, I am sure it would be _quite_ **pleasant** for you to finally be out of that dreary and dusty laboratory, focusing on _real_ work for a change” Larina felt a flash of annoyance at his words. Whilst her work for Calcelmo did not require the refinery of portraiture, _she_ found it real work and stimulating nonetheless. She could not say the same about her conversations with Thonar. 

Guiding Liesel to her seat, Larina took her own and regarded the young girl for a few moments, making sure her positioning and the light was right. She could feel Thonar’s presence, ever too close to her at all times. Leaning over her shoulder, he murmured into her ear, 

“Seeing as you really can’t start the project today, what are you going to be doing for the next hour or so?”. Larina hoped his presence, at this proximity, was not going to be a reoccurring one but she simply smiled as she responded, 

“A quick sketch of Liesel’s features for yourself and I” and he nodded at her words, silent for only a moment. 

“But  _ why _ two?” she knew he was going to ask and she tried to prevent the exasperated tone in her voice, hoping he would not do this during every session. Hoping to the gods,  _ any god _ , that she could get this project quickly and as perfectly done as possible. 

“One for yourself - to see what my artistic skills are like and decide whether you still want to commission some work, and one for myself: I’ll go over it later and consider some ways to pose Liesel and what exactly I have in mind”. 

Thonar nodded at her answer, as if he had known what she was going to say all along and was simply testing her.

That’s how they remained, for more than an hour: Larina focusing intently on Liesel’s face, hoping to make sure she portrayed her mother’s beauty as finely as possible. A hard task when she looked more like her father. More than once, Larina had to remind her that she could not shift in her seat or move her mouth to answer the idle questions that her father asked. 

“I’m  _ sorry _ Liesel, this will be quite a boring process but I will try and complete it as quickly as possible. If you have any questions or ideas you would like me to talk about during our next session, I’ll happily talk and keep you occupied, I’ll make sure we’ll take breaks too”. The youngest Silver-Blood simply acted as if she did not exist. 

Larina sighed and continued focusing on her features, shifting in her seat as her back began to ache: she had been sitting in the wrong position for a far too long now. 

Until her thoughts had been interrupted by Thonar’s abrupt words, 

“Can we  _ help _ you Justiciar?” Larina looked up and saw the Justiciar paused in the doorway, hands dressed in leather and crossed before him.

He pointed lazily at the wolf that was curled up across Larina’s feet, sleeping peacefully. 

“I have been looking for her for that last half hour, a servant informed me that she had seen her follow Miss Devereaux in here….. Potema,  **_come_ ** **”** at his call, the dog jolted from her sleep and bounded to her master’s side. Larina could see the faint glimmer of a smile in the twitch of his mouth, clearly happy to see her enthusiasm for him. 

Larina rose from her seat too and explained, 

“I found her playing with Eli in the inner sanctum this morning, and she’s been with me all day. I heard that you had been in meetings all morning and didn’t want to disturb you...” it was true and if he had missed her presence throughout the day, she was  _ sure _ he would have sent a servant to find her. 

“Clearly she’s enjoying spending time with a  _ mutt _ ” his tone had shifted, instantly making her feel uncomfortable. There was a tenseness in the air, not helped by Thonar’s stance and the fact he had creeped closer whilst she was not aware. He looked like he was ready for war: the irony was not lost on her, she knew he had never held a sword in his hand, the blood was always on somebody else's. Her heart….sank as the Justiciar turned on his heels and left, followed closely behind by Potema. 

Waiting until he was out of earshot, Thonar spat, 

“I  _ can’t _ stand him, the sooner he’s out of the city the better” Larina did not respond, simply gathering her things before handing Thonar one of the sketches. 

“I am  _ quite _ positive that I want to commission you to draw my Liesel, clearly only you are able to capture her beauty so well” Larina kept her mouth shut. 

“Well..once you manage to acquire the materials I need, I can get started on it straight away” she murmured through gritted teeth. 

“The sooner the better” he replied, his smile making her feel uncomfortable.

Before she had a chance to excuse herself, Larina remembered the gift in her pocket that needed to be delivered. 

Handing him the silver sphere, he responded, 

“You got me a present…?” and raised an eyebrow. 

Larina shook her head, 

“From  _ Calcelmo _ …” she made sure to emphasise “made with the silver  _ you _ gave him and powered by a soul gem. He called it a timepiece, to follow the time during the day”, Thonar held it up to the artificial light. 

“It’s beautiful…” his gaze slowly flitted across her face slowly, Larina dropped her gazeto the floor, mumbling,

“You press the button on the top, it’ll reveal the machinations inside”. He followed her instructions and could not hide his marvel at Calcelmo’s creation. 

“ _ All _ the best things take a little effort to prise open” from his tone she knew he was not speaking of the timepiece. 

Drawing her shawl tighter around her, Larina bobbed a quick curtsy and farewell, falesy hoping she would see them at dinner. She quickly darted out of the Hall and headed out of the room, avoiding anything he had prepared to say next. 

As she caught his silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, Larina realised that the Justiciar’s room had finally been made available. Her wish of having an extra moment to see him had been granted, but now she was a bag of nerves. She had expected to see him as how she did when they were around the dining table, or spaces apart in the Great Hall: his grace and features emphasised by his gold and silver. But once she bridged the distance between them, she realised something was wrong….

His golden skin, that had distracted her attention, now had a strange undertone, and beneath his usually bright eyes, there were shades of purple. Her stomach flipped in concern. They were a mere arms length apart but she felt so  _ far _ from him. Evidently he sensed her concern, or perhaps it was her silence, as he turned to continue down the hallway towards his room. 

Not wanting to lose the moment, Larina blurted out the obvious, 

“I see that you’ve moved to this side of the Keep….I had not expected any neighbours” he paused at his door but remained silent, her joke falling flat. 

“Why did you decide to move?” she continued, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear his voice. 

“The same reason as  _ you _ , I assume” he answered curtly, the same tone he used with Daciana. Larina tried to hide her response to the sting. She could not help but continue, 

“My  _ apologies _ for being so blunt Justiciar, but you look rather tired” from their distance he regarded her for a moment before replying, 

“My work keeps me busy” he looked like he was going to say something else, but stopped at the last moment.

“Hopefully you have time to rest before the meal…” she spoke tenderly, just about working up the courage to utter his name aloud again before he opened his door and entered his room, leaving her standing in the hall. 

  
  


After entering her room, Larina collapsed on her bed with a groan.  _ So much for not embarrassing yourself _ . But her concern still lingered, the Justiciar had only been here less than a week and he was already looking exhausted. Still, she did not know the full expectations of his job and it had been a while since they last had a Justiciar: perhaps he had a lot of work to catch up to. Her thoughts drifted off as she slowly, and accidentally, fell into a long nap. 

When she awoke, her position was crooked and drool stained her cheeks, she brushed it off with the back of her hand and rubbed her eyes blearily. She had not realised how tired she was and now had awakened feeling worse than before. Dragging herself off the bed, she regarded her reflection in her looking glass, wondering how much she needed to fix herself up before their meal. Pulling her timepiece out of her pocket, Larina checked to see the time and saw that she had less than an hour to prepare for the meal. Such a  _ marvellous _ creation and there was no way she was going to let his hard work go unpunished. 

Larina quickly ran a comb through her hair, trying to save and de-tangle some of the curls that hung around her shoulders, deciding to leave it down hoping that they would detract attention from her tired, pale face. She pulled the last, unworn dress out of her wardrobe: a grey linen dress with black oversleeves. Perhaps one of her favourite garments. For a moment she wondered why she had suddenly become  _ so _ fixated upon her appearance, the comments from Daciana she once feared no longer seemed threatening. She knew what the cause was and she still considered herself  _ foolish _ .

Still, she would attempt to convince her uncle to let her visit the Market again, hoping to purchase some new arraignment. 

Around her waist she attached a small silver chain belt, a rare gift from Daciana that she had worn a few times to be polite and never again. Now it had found its use as something to attach Calcelmo’s timepiece to, she was quite excited to bring it with her. Remembering her chill from earlier, Larina quickly grabbed her shawl from her chair before stepping into the hallway, hoping to bump into the Justiciar there: only to walk to the dinning hall on her own. 

She found him already seated at the dining table, conversing with her uncle and she was glad to see that the seating arrangement from before had been repeated. But the noble families did not always join them for dinner, and she wondered why their appearance had been requested as she sank into her seat, shawl draped across the back of her chair. Casting her eyes over the Justiciar, wary of being caught, she saw that there was more colour in his cheeks than before but his words were...steady. As if his attention to the conversation took all of his energy. That evening, with his usual black tunic, he wore black leather bracers, that covered his palm but left his fingers uncovered - revealing the few silver rings he wore. She could not tell if he wore his amulet or kept it concealed, and rather than having his hair braided back, it hung around his shoulders: his hands occasionally brushing it back, distracted. She caught his eyes only once, and rather than dropping her gaze she maintained it until he dropped his first. They held a look there she could not place. 

He allowed his wine glass to be refilled but neglected it for most of the meal. That night they had been provided with several dishes and Larina opted for a few pieces of rabbit, her attention mostly focused on the vegetables. They had been served beef too, but it was far too bloody for her, the rest of the men around the table refused to turn it down, but they appeared hesitant to eat it whilst the Justiciar took small, slow bites. 

Around the table, she had been dragged into a few conversations but could not entertain them for long. Her attention this evening was lacking but even she could sense something strange in the air. The conversation was strained,  _ halted _ . She had hoped that Calcelmo would join them for the meal and was disappointed by his lack of appearance. Even more so when they left for the Great Hall and he had still not joined them. 

She was at least cheered, by the bard who had joined them for the evening again. But rather than singing in the coarse, folksongs of Skyrim, he was singing a poem she did not recognise. It was pleasant enough and no one had so far complained and so he continued. Daciana gestured for her to join the table, pouring her a glass of wine that she slowly, reluctantly sipped. Her aunt and Kerah pestered her for information about her afternoon with Thonar and his daughter: Larina knew her aunt had no  _ real _ interest in her work, simply wanting gossip and she had disappointingly little to indulge. 

It wasn’t until the Justiciar joined them at the table that her aunt was suitably occupied with something else, she had begun to murmur something to him that the rest could not hear. Catching her attempt at eavesdropping, her aunt’s gaze flicked to the shawl she now had wrapped around her shoulders and snapped,

“I’ve not seen  _ that _ before, is it new?” knowing that her niece had not brought any new clothing since her arrival. Larina was just about to respond in confusion that it was simply her old cloak until she glanced down and realised it was the wrong colour. Rather than being made from brown wool, she realised in horror that it was black cashmere embroidered in silver. It was  _ his _ . As she figured out how she could have possibly picked up the wrong cloak from her room, her eyes glanced up and caught him, watching her.

Before she had a chance to explain herself the Jarl rose from his seat and addressed them, she could tell from the solemn look on his face that it was serious. 

“As some of you have been made aware, Corrilian received some letters suggesting an outbreak of illness in the Reach…” the Justiciar had received the news first,  _ not _ him, and as much as her uncle held his head high, she knew that his position was faltering amongst the other noble families. “I received a letter today from Jarl Siddgeir confirming a handful of cases within his hold, but he is adamant these are travelers and not his own people” the room still remained silent at his words. “He has sent for reinforcements, especially assistance from the vigilants of Stendarr and has warned me of what he knows” gesturing to the Justiciar, steward and Thongvar Silver-Blood, her uncle continued. “We have decided to temporarily close the city walls and prevent all trade outside, unless heavily inspected until this scourge is over-come. I intend to take  _ full _ advantage of those students' promises when they emerge from the ruins and prevent its spread”. She was glad her uncle remained hopeful of the expedition but her concern about the illness had taken over. 

  
  


Evidently annoyed that his brother had not informed him of the meeting from the morning, Thonar interrupted, 

“If the Jarl of Falkreath has requested the assistance of the Vigilants, it means he believes this is of Daedric origin?” his words causing them all to shift restlessly in their seats. 

Her uncle nodded at his statement and replied, 

“ _ Yes _ we believe so…. But luckily Corrilian has work that requires his absence from the city for a few days and with his men he has stated he will look into the reports, and inform us on his return about the extent of the issue and  _ then _ we will make a decision”. His words clearly satisfied  _ their _ concerns but Larina’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She knew the Justiciar could not be putting himself in danger for  _ Markarth _ , there must be something more to it than that. 

“Hopefully you won’t be gone from us for too long Corrilian” Daciana drawled, attempting to refill his goblet but he curtly declined. 

“Four days at most” his gaze caught Larina’s as he spoke, his eyes regarding her in that strange way again. She could not place what the feeling was, but it caused the hairs on her arms to raise. For the rest of the evening they both rarely spoke, unless an answer was expected from them. As her eyes struggled to remain open, she requested her aunt’s permission to leave and was forced to wait a few moments for an answer. Once she had received it, she bid them all goodnight and sheepishly brought the cloak with her, reminding herself that she must find a less **_awkward_** way to return it to him rather than in front of everyone, invoking their questions.

As she was heading out of the doorway she heard him make his excuses and trail after him: the night before this had been what she had wished for, but now she felt small and foolish. Once out of earshot she apologised profusely, 

“I am sorry, I was supposed to return this to you, I thought about asking a servant and completely forgot. In my rush this evening I must have picked it up by mistake” her words fell into silence from his lack of response and Larina’s face flushed even more. They continued down the hallway, his pace slowed to match hers, in silence until they reached her bedroom door. 

Larina could not help but ask,

“ _ Why _ are you leaving the city, can’t you send one of the soldier’s?”. He paused for a moment before responding, 

“Although I represent all the Justiciar’s in Skyrim, we only have agents in Falkreath and as the closest Justiciar, I have business to attend to there” he kept his distance from her, hands crossed behind his back. 

She was in no position to demand information from him but he had indulged her all the same. As he turned to head towards his door she called out his name,

“ _ Corrilian _ …” he half turned to face her, waiting to hear what she had to say, regarding her with that look again. “ _ Please _ be careful” she could not maintain her gaze with him as she said it. It wasn’t until he entered his rooms that she realised she had missed the opportunity to return his cloak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter, hope you enjoy guys :)


	16. Smoke in a cup

That morning Larina reluctantly woke, his cloak draped across the edge of her bed. Sitting up she rested her head on her knees and ran her hands through her hair: by now the Justiciar would be riding towards Falkreath with his men, she wondered if he had taken the wolves with him. As much as their presence was reassuring to her, she knew he would not turn down the opportunity to take them out. 

Crawling out of bed, Larina gathered his cloak up in her arms, resisting the urge to smell his scent again and decided to hang it in her wardrobe. Out of sight and hopefully preventing another mistake like last night’s, until she could return it to him. She had ignored Voada’s knock at her bedroom door, no appetite to eat and slowly dressed. After washing her face in her basin, Larina decided to tie all of her hair on her head in a loose bun, steadied with some fabric and re-dressed in her birch dress from before. Though it was not uncommon to wear an outfit a handful of times before washing, she certainly did not have the same amount of outfits available to cycle through as Daciana or her daughter. Hoping for no other distractions this evening, she would ask for her uncle’s permission to visit the Market. She knew what he would say, preferring her to request a servant to do it, but since she had walked in the fresh air, even the drizzle on her face was something she missed stronger than before. 

Bending over to retrieve the silver belt from the floor last night, Larina caught her reflection in the looking glass, still pale but considerably less tired looking: fastening it around her waist, Larina attached the timepiece to it, feeling rather smart in her appearance. Last night she had planned on subtly drawing attention to it, hoping to highlight Calcelmo’s hard work but had become otherwise _distracted_. But she hoped by wearing it as often as possible now, it would make up for it. 

Stepping into the hallway, Larina glanced forlornly upwards, wondering about the Justiciar. Whatever his duty in Falkreath was, she could not help but be concerned for him: she knew it was a foolish thought, the Thalmor were highly trained to look after themselves, plus he would be protected by his own guards. But he still had to ride through the Reach, not many were comfortable to make that route, the threat of bandits and the Forsworn were bad enough, but she remembered what Calcelmo had said about the  _ Afflicted _ and as hard as she tried, she could not shake the worry from her mind. 

He clearly sensed she was distracted not long after she arrived in the laboratory and began setting herself to the tasks he had planned for her. Usually it was her taking care of him, trying to pull him out of the depths of his mind and reminding him to eat. Larina hadn’t realised he had been calling her name until he clapped his hands in front of her face, making her jump. 

The older mer lent on the desk beside her and shook his head, a look of concern resting upon his face,

“Did you get enough sleep last night?” he asked, looking her over. 

Larina nodded, wondering if he would believe her, 

“Surprisingly well, considering my sleeping patterns have not been great the last few days, I think I’m certainly looking better than I did yesterday” only she laughed at her joke. 

“Have you eaten today?” he asked.

“....huh?” her mind had begun to wander again. 

“I’ll take that as a  _ no _ ” Calcelmo returned to his desk and brought her a plate with his sweetroll on. “Eat…. _ please _ ” Larina knew she had no choice but to do what she was told. 

As she sat there, picking the pastry into tiny pieces and eating them reluctantly, she watched as Calcelmo retrieved a few leaves from a pot on his shelf, added them to a small black kettle he had filled with water and heated it on his alchemy table: Larina wondered if it was actually safe to do so, but decided not to question him. 

After a short amount of time, he poured the liquid into two, dark clay cups and brought them over to the desk. 

“There’s no handle….” Larina remarked in confusion, tenderly touching the sides of the cup, feeling the warmth of the tea starting to seep through. 

Calcelmo smiled in return, “how it’s traditionally served” and watched as Larina lent over the desk to smell the steam rising from her cup. Unlike the milder teas she and Voada had drunk in the kitchen, it smelt strongly of woodsmoke and mild spices. Larina tentatively took a sip, hoping not to burn her mouth and was surprised that it did not taste as bitter as she was expecting, 

“What is it?” she asked, enjoying its taste. 

“ _ Shay ‘aswad _ , from Hammerfell” Larina took another sip, enjoying the warmth in her hands. She felt relaxed with the older Mer, and even though she often found herself feeling culturally uneducated compared to him, he never made her feel lesser. Those feelings were yet to extend to the Justiciar. 

“When I had my meeting with the Justiciar, I noticed the distinct smell straight away, one of the few times something has reminded me of  _ home _ ” hearing his words Larina watched him carefully, even in the time she had spent with him or his nephew, she had not heard them talk about their home much. She did not really want to pry , he was aware of what her situation was and had never dug too deeply either. Both comfortable in their mutual secrecy.

“It certainly makes up for my  _ lack _ of dates” the smile he flashed her was strange and she felt the sudden urge to justify herself, 

“They weren’t personally for  _ me _ ” she replied, perhaps a little  _ too _ quickly, “Voada had said all of the court had been given some with their breakfasts...I just happened to be the only one that likes them  _ apparently _ ”. He said nothing at her words, regarding her curiously before heading back to his desk, cup in hand, and returned to his work. 

They worked in silence for a while until Calcelmo returned to her table with a small, dwemer vase: Larina waited, confused, as to why he had brought it over. 

“I will have some sketches arriving by courier over the next few days, designs of the  _ few _ bathing houses installed across Skyrim for inspiration” Larina lay down her quill, curious about their new project. 

“There are some I think  _ you _ will find interesting too. I have some designs of the interiors in various styles, I am still unsure on how to detail the Understone’s bathing rooms but I think your eye is going to be keener than mine”. He was certainly right about her interest, with how onboard her aunt was, she couldn’t imagine the Nordic style of wood, furs and antlers to be quite popular. But she knew that ultimately the decision wasn’t hers to make. 

“Daciana is practically overseeing this as another one of  _ her _ projects, it's her that you have to speak to about the design” Larina sighed, hoping that she would be able to influence her a little bit. 

Calcelmo looked at her hesitantly and it dawned on her what he was going to ask. 

“Oh no,  _ no _ . You can’t expect me to sit down with  _ her _ and discuss these things. You know she’ll just take the papers off me and make the decision by herself.” Larina gave him a pleading look and was met only with a shrug. 

“I am quite certain that she will react a lot better with  _ you _ then with  _ me _ ”. Larina pressed her hand to her forehead, knowing he was right. 

Larina picked up her quill before dropping it down again, cracking her fingers in her hand - receiving a quick chastisement from Calcelmo in the process. She had lost her creative line of thought. Calcelmo left to retrieve a few pieces of dwemer cogs with him and before returning to his seat beside her. 

“Are you not spending the afternoon with Thonar and his daughter?” the way he expressed it made it sound like she was doing it for  _ fun _ . Larina shook her head and replied, 

“He wants a proper portrait of Liesel and I don’t have the right tools for it…” the prospect of new parchment, pigments and proper brushes did alleviate the weight of having to spend so much time with him. “Alongside paying me, he’s going to buy them for me too”. Calcelmo gave her a knowing in a response to her words. 

“Perhaps you will become the official portraiture of Markarth” he joked “but remember when you are popular, I utilised your talent first!” Larina rolled her eyes and laughed, hoping it would not come to that. 

When she looked up again, she noticed he was watching her, knowing that he was thinking of something to say, Larina leant on her arm and faced him. 

“Faleen informed me that she saw the Justiciar leave early this morning, accompanied by two of his own guards and two that the Jarl provided, to guarantee his safety” Calcelmo finally spoke, and she wondered what had prompted her to inform him. Was it something he could sense… Was it that obvious? Larina was reluctant to admit she was slowly developing feelings for him, how could she? The Justiciar had been in the city for less than a week and they hardly conversed at all. She doubted her feelings were serious anyway: it was a result of having a new, admittedly handsome, face in the Keep. The only people she was not related to here were the Legate, a horrendously boring man she barely spoke to or the Silver-Blood brothers, the thought of which made her shudder. A handful of times, during the first year of her arrival, Larina had caught herself stammering around Aicantar, something she knew his uncle had picked up on. But it became apparently clear he regarded her as a younger sibling,  _ nothing _ more. At that revelation she had expected it to become quite awkward between them, but after a few weeks of gentle teasing and a promise to never mention it again, they settled back into their friendship. 

Hoping to deflect on the subject, Larina responded rather coyly,

“You make sure to see  _ Faleen _ every morning Calcelmo….” flashing him a sly grin rather than finishing her sentence. It was a topic that had come up between her and Aicantar a few times when they were certain he was out of earshot. 

The older Mer said nothing but looked away, clearly unimpressed by her words. Larina instantly felt a twist of guilt in her stomach, she hadn’t intended to hurt him. 

“She is quite a formidable woman, but I hear she is rather fond of poetry….” at her word’s Calcemo’s gaze returned to her with a sigh, and Larina returned it with a kind but knowing smile. 

“Does she know how you feel?” she asked, wondering if he would answer such a personal question. 

He shook his head and replied, “I am sure she had no interest in an old fool such as - ”.

Larina scoffed, “I  _ doubt _ she would think that all..” wondering how else she could voice the fact that Faleen was hardly a spring lamb herself: she had nursed her uncle back to health after the Forsworn Uprising and now looked after his son the same way. 

Thinking of an idea, Larina beamed at him, “why don’t you write her a poem?” her question instantly returned with the adamant shake of his head. 

“I write science, not  _ poetry _ ” though he sounded so certain, Larina wondered if it was because he did not know  _ how _ : unlike herself, who had a weakness for epic poems and stories of knights of old saving poor maiden’s. 

“I’ll write it…” Larina grinned, as his golden face paled for a second. “I’ll show it to you before I give it to her I  _ promise _ but what’s the worst that could happen? Mara could shine her love on you both and you finally receive the answers you seek?” Calcelmo’s reluctant agreement was all that she needed, the thought of arranging the pair of them together instantly improved her mood.

  
  


But something faltered in the back of her mind, and as if the older Mer could sense it, he asked her what was wrong. Larina thought for a moment, wondering the best way to not cause offense. 

“I was just wondering…” she stared, twirling her quill between her fingers, trying to avoid his gaze. 

“Where do the altmer stand  _ exactly _ on relationships with those not of their kind…?” he regarded her for a second, almost if understanding the true reasoning behind her question. He pulled his stool closer to her for a second, before responding. 

“It really depends Larina…. There are a lot of factors involved, not all of us in the province are as prejudiced as some would have you believe” she understood what he meant, she had been proven that multiple times by Calcelmo and his nephew. “Altmeri relationships with humans are not entirely looked down upon per se, research has shown that such unions are capable of providing families, it mostly our differing lifespans that get in the way” Larina thought for a moment at the prospect.  _ Your lives are fleeting compared to ours _ , echoed around her mind. The thought of someone having to watch as their partner, children and grandchildren all rose and passed before them, leaving them entirely alone filled her with unease. The thought made her stomach turn:  _ but perhaps there are those that see it as a fleeting, meaningless relationship to pass the time _ ? She tried to push that truth out of her mind.

Sensing her concerns, Calcelmo continued, “but there are  _ some _ groups who do not agree with racial mixing  _ at all _ ” watching her as his words sunk in. 

It was to what he was implying, Larina rested her head on her hand with a sigh and replied, 

“I  _ know _ what you’re going to say….”. But Calcelmo held his hand up, silencing her mid-sentence. 

“Not just the Thalmor my dear, there is a reason why their group rose to prominence and it is because of some cities supporting those ideals  _ long _ before the group’s birth” Larina regarded him with a look of confusion and curiosity, wondering what he was trying to imply. 

Deciding to be brutally honest, Calcelmo continued, “cities like  _ Skywatch _ have made it quite clear their opinions on the Dominion’s alliance with other nations, especially on those who live within them”. His words made her reel for a moment, thinking about what he said. The Justiciar had shown no understanding or reciprocation of her feelings so far: would they ever be returned and would she know if he was honest? In High Rock it had been different, but she had seen how they had dealt with the Brettony folk here in Markarth, the only influential figures were her aunt - who tried to hide her heritage as best as possible, Nepos  _ the nose _ who was now dead and herself, and her power in the Keep was just as influential as Eli. 

  
  


They sat in silence for a moment before Larina rose from her seat, the older mer regarded her with a look of  concern for a moment. For the first time since her arrival, Larina hugged him tightly, her embrace taking him by surprise. 

“I know you are looking out for me Calcelmo, and I appreciate it more than you could know….but I think some mistakes are mine to make” and she waited for his response. 

He paused for a moment before replying, 

“ _ That’s what I was worried about _ ”

When she had returned to her room to change, Larina decided to take stock of what she had clothing wise, combined between her bedroom floor and the wardrobe she was stood before in her undergarments. Once her journey to Markarth had been confirmed, she had packed quickly and light, knowing not to take anything too expensive with her in case they were stopped by bandits. Neither she, nor her grandmother, could afford to pay for a private carriage or armed guard and so she had to share her journey with several others until they reached the border where she was met by a small wagon and her uncle’s men. Amongst her possessions (her mother’s small statue to Kynareth, a few pieces of jewellery and a handful of books) she had travelled in her only pair of boots, black hosen, a white tunic and a small cloak. Her grandmother had purchased for her her favourite grey linen dress with black oversleeves and a new kirtle to go with her tunics and she had decided to bring her mother’s blue dress and a handful of plain linen dresses that befit the style of her home but out of place in the court of Markarth. It was her mother’s dress, amongst all of them, that the Justiciar had complimented. 

**_No_ ** ,  _ It wasn’t a compliment, he wanted you to cover the bruises to save himself and y _ **_ou_ ** _ from trouble _ , she reminded herself. Save from the small cloak that Kerah had given her, and the belt from Daciana, she had only bought a handful of new tunics since her arrival in Markarth. As reluctant as she was to the prospect, she knew she needed to expand her wardrobe. Keeping her hair pinned to the top of her head, Larina quickly dressed in a plain, moss coloured linen dress and re-attached her timepiece to the silver belt at her waist. Before heading to the dining table. 

Seeing neither the Justiciar or Calcelmo there was a jolt to her, wondering if tonight would be the night she would perish from boredom. This evening the other noble families did not join them for the meal, and despite the fact the table’s conversations continued ildly along, she felt no inclination to join them. Their evening meal was rabbit stew and potatoes, and whilst her uncle and the steward conversed, Larina caught her aunt’s eye as she poured herself  _ another _ glass of wine. She wondered how differently things could have been if her aunt had welcomed her appropriately as her sister’s only apparent child: she wondered what the bad blood between them could possibly be that caused her aunt to despise her so. 

“I hear Thonar Silver-Blood has ordered some proper artistic supplies for Larina to complete the portrait of his daughter” her uncle stated, trying to engage her in conversation. 

Ignoring Daciana’s daggers she replied, 

“ _ Yes _ and I am quite grateful… once this project is complete I would be quite happy to draw my cousins for you too” the words tumbled out before she could stop them, hoping that her uncle would dismiss the idea. 

“That sounds quite lovely doesn’t it my love?” her uncle turned and addressed his wife, and Larina could not help but note the sting in his voice. 

“Indeed” she simply replied in between sips of her wine. 

Larina fell out of conversation again as the table was cleared and they followed her uncle into the Great Hall to await the presence of the other noble families. With Daciana ignoring her, she was glad to see the bard was still here, waiting for suggestions. 

“Do you have any  _ happy _ , adventurous songs?” Larina enquired, she could not stomach another night of battle poems and bloodshed. 

“Not yet miss...but I could write one in time” he responded rather sheepishly and Larina felt guilty about challenging him. His repertoire was probably quite accepted by the regulars at the Inn, being stuck here with them must be like walking on eggshells. 

  
  


As her aunt refilled her glass of wine, Larina decided not to make an attempt at conversation with her, knowing it would fall flat until Kerah appeared. Mentally she began to plot the beginnings of a poem for Calcelmo, waiting for the rest of the court to appear. 

Hearing the telltale squeal of Liesel and Adara joining Edurne, revealing to her whatever gossip they had learned from the city during the day, Larina and her aunt sat up in their seats as the rest of the nobles joined them at their tables. With no other pressing concerns to engulf them, the men retired to a separate table to smoke and play cards. 

As Daciana enquired as to how Kerah had spent her day, Larina was stunned by the thought that she somewhat  _ pitied _ her aunt. She had not left the Keep in years, and had lived vicariously through Betrid and Kerah. She wondered if her aunt missed the outside world like she did: her sympathy though was not long lived. 

Larina waited for the right lull in conversation to ask, 

“I’m going to ask the Jarl if it’s alright for me to visit the Market tomorrow, just to buy some new clothing and return straight after” and she waited to see her aunt’s reaction. 

“By the gods why are you asking me this?” Daciana responded, clearly bored.

Larina thought for a moment, the perfect words to say that would both convince and flatter her aunt. “I only have a handful of outfits, and nothing new in years, I really would like to avoid embarrassing yourself and the Jarl by wearing the same old, dirty things over and over again”. Larina knew with her aunt that flattery would get her a  _ long _ way. 

Her aunt cast her gaze over lazily before responding,

“You are attempting to make efforts with your appearance at least, that’s the first time I’ve seen you wear that belt  _ I _ gifted you, but by the gods what is that attached to it?” her aunt shot her a look of annoyance. 

As she removed it from her belt, Larina explained “It’s a timepiece that Calcelmo created, with silver from Cidhna Mine and a soul gem, when you press the -” her aunt interrupted her with a wave of her hand and the roll of her eyes, clearly disinterested. 

Larina narrowed her eyes in response, wondering what she could say to challenge her aunt without being reprimanded even worse. 

“The Market won’t exactly be busy tomorrow Larina, it’s _Tirdas_ , but I hear that Lisbet has received some items from a Khajiit caravan recently, including some garments. If you help me carry some things back to my shop, I will be happy to escort you” Kerah interrupted, hoping to break the tension between the pair of them.

“I suppose if you can get the Jarl’s permission, I will be happy if you go, save you from embarrassing us any longer…” her aunt mocked. Larina sat nothing but sat there in silence, almost regretting that she had declinned a glass of wine at her meal. At least it wasn’t a  _ no _ , she mused to herself. Larina sat there and indulged in conversation only when she was forced to, her mind distracted by the thought of Calcelmo’s poem, the sketches that would be arriving soon and trying to convince her uncle to allow her to her to visit the Market: trying desperately hard to keep the Justiciar and the trip into Nchuand-Zel at the back of her mind.

Once she had finally convinced her aunt to allow her to return to her room, Kerah informed her she would meet her in the inner sanctum in the morning for a meeting with her uncle, before she bid them all goodnight. 

  
As she wandered her route back to her room, Larina wondered how Calcelmo now spent the evening with his nephew gone. She hoped he was not too lonely and wondered why he had not joined them this evening. Once she undressed and changed into her bedclothes, Larina’s gaze flitted to her wardrobe, reluctantly reminding herself that removing  _ his _ cloak from her wardrobe was not a good idea. Sinking under her sheets, she left a few candles burning in her fireplace, illuminating the gloom of her room and hoping that her brain would allow her a few hours of restful sleep before morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even when he's not here, Corrilian still invades her mind.  
> I've been toying with the idea for a while, but a reader has suggested the idea of a chapter from Corrilian's point of view... I already have a moment planned for it if you're all interested....  
> In the next chapter I'll also include the fantastic fan-art LizardBrain has created of Corrilian and Larina to make up for the lack of Corrilian ;w; 
> 
> *also for those wondering, I filtered through the Yoku dictionary online that provided a handful of phrases to try and describe Lapsang Souchong in a lore friendly way, alas there was no way and so I terribly translated it into Arabic to fill in the blanks....*


	17. Seafoam and Sweetrolls

When Larina awoke the following morning, she was covered in sweat, her covers and pillows strewn across the floor. She had slept the whole night through, but not peacefully: as awakeness began to take over, she could only remember a few details from the nightmare she had been trapped in. She was returning to her room from the Great Hall, in an oversized dress that she struggled to walk, the dreaded feeling of being watched taking over her. In her panic, her pace quickened as did whatever it was that followed her, but no matter how far or fast she ran, she could not make it to her room. Larina poured some fresh water into her basin and splashed her face, hoping to cleanse the memory away. What a strange dream. 

She dressed in one of her tunics and her brown kirtle and removed her few items of clothing from her wardrobe, her eyes lingering on  _ his _ cloak for a moment, and dumped them onto the floor: stripping the bed, she added to the pile, her plan was to take it to the kitchens and help Voada clean them, leaving them to dry whilst she visited the Market with Kerah. She was just about to grab the bundle to take with her when she was interrupted by a frantic knock at her bedroom door. Larian opened it and found Voada standing in the hall, her breakfast tray in her hands, and before she had a chance to ask her why the urgency, the older Breton woman barged past her, into her room. As Larina closed the door Voada placed her tray on the stone table before her and slid into one of the chairs. 

Remaining where she stood, Larina asked,

“By the gods,  _ what _ is going on?”. 

Voada gestured for her to join her before replying, 

“The last few days you’ve not had breakfast and I am certain you’ve not had lunch, whatsmore you look like  _ Oblivion _ too” casting her a look of concern.

Larina rolled her eyes and sighed, 

“I’ve just been busy and had no appetite” wondering why the older woman was so concerned.

“That’s no excuse not to eat, despite what you had gone through at home, you arrived here looking a lot healthier than  _ this _ ” Larina knew how pale she had become, and a few days of restless sleep would make anyone look terrible. 

Larina sighed and slunk into the seat opposite her, knowing better than to argue with Voada. Watching her spread honey on her pieces of bread, the older woman waited until Larina took a bite before continuing,

“You have to take care of yourself my dear, especially when you’re trapped in the mountainside. If you really have that much stuff to do that you’re neglecting your health I think you need to take a break”.

Larina waited until she swallowed her mouthful before reassuring her, 

“It’s not  _ that _ I promise! In fact keeping busy is what’s preventing me from going crazy in here…” she knew that Voada had understood, from the first weeks she arrived, it was in Voada’s arms she sought comfort. Any pride in her drawings or new discoveries and she had to tell her straight away. 

Casting her gaze around Larina’s room, Voada raised a quizzical eyebrow and asked,

“Why is a pile of clothing in the middle of your floor?”. 

Larina washed down her mouthful with a sip of warm tea and replied, 

“Oh...I was going to bring them to the kitchen to wash, thought I’d save you the trouble….”

“Chance would be a fine thing” the older woman sighed, “I’m expecting deliveries for the Keep at all times, the Justiciar’s orders have arrived too and of  _ course _ the linens in the rooms aren’t good enough for him” she rolled her eyes. 

It certainly appeared that things in the Keep weren’t to his standard, she wondered how he was finding Falkreath…

Taking another sip of her tea, Larina responded with a sly smile 

“Go on... _ pray tell _ ” Voada feigned surprise at her word’s but Larina knew she was partial to gossip. 

“ _ Satin sheets _ … have you ever heard of such a thing? It must be a  _ Thalmor _ thing as I haven’t heard of the other Mer’s rooms being  _ that _ refined. All black of course and a thick fur blanket too. I shudder to think at why he keeps those wolves” Larina smiled at her dramatics but knew instinctively he had no ill will towards the wolves, remembering how he had called them his  _ girls _ . 

They talked idly whilst Larina slowly finished her breakfast, glad of the company but realised Voada had been watching her: Larina raised her eyebrow suggesting that she should ask her question. 

“You seem a little restless, did you not get much sleep again? I could pick you up a sleeping potion from Bothela” Voada enquired, her concern returning.

But Larina shook her head, 

“Nothing but a bad dream I couldn’t wake from and I’m hoping the Jarl will let me join Kerah on her trip to the Market this morning, I could pick something up then…” Larina’s gaze caught Voada’s as the older woman flashed her another look of concern.  _ I suppose if I tell her about my dream it’ll lift this weight from my shoulders _ , Larina mused to herself before divulging all. 

  
  


They sat in silence for a few moments until Voada asked Larina to pass her her cup, she knew what she was planning to do and ardently shook her head. 

“You  _ know _ the old magick is  _ forbidden _ ” she whispered, not feeling comfortable even in her own room to discuss it. Voada rolled her eyes at her words and responded, 

“You may be a mighty high-born from High Rock but yourel  _ still _ a Breton, no matter what these Nords do they  _ cannot _ take this away from us, it’s in our blood” Larina knew it was something Voada was so secretly passionate about. There was an old seer in her home village that she had asked her father about once, but he dismissed the old magick as a load of nonsense: still she trusted Voada nonetheless and passed her the cup. 

“The cards, tea leaves, scrying, it's all an important part of our culture, you really should take some time to learn” Voada continued, not looking up from the cup. 

“Ah yes, and when I’m executed for Forsworn witchcraft, I’ll make sure to thank you” Larina responded sarcastically but Voada just tutted. 

She finally looked up from her cup and regarded her solemnly.

“Whatever could it be?” Larina asked with a sigh, wondering what the older woman would reveal dramatically to her. 

“A  _ wolf _ ….look do you see?” Voada tried to show her the shape in her leaves, Larina squinted unable to see anything amongst the mush but nodded all the same, taking her word for it. 

“So…..what does it  _ mean _ ?” Larina asked, hoping to remind her she was not knowledgeable about the symbols. 

“Well...it could mean a number of things” she replied elusively until Larina raised her eyebrows again, encouraging her to continue. “It could indicate a new beginning  _ or _ enemies, family misfortune or an unfortunate love affair” her eyes widened dramatically and Larina waved her off. 

“I’ve already had  _ enough _ family misfortunes thank you, and who in  _ this _ Keep is interesting enough for an unfortunate tryst?” Larina feigned her dramatics equally. 

Rising from her seat and gathering Larina’s breakfast tray, Voada responded, 

“ _ Good _ you should have no interest in the foolish, boring men in this Keep, the sooner you leave the better”, Larina tried to take the tray from her hands but Voada chastised her, and as she went to gather her washing from the floor, the older woman called over. 

“Leave it my dear, I’ll collect it soon, you know how it would look if you were caught walking the halls like a laundry maid. Go flatter your uncle and visit the Market…” as if sensing Larina’s guilt for not helping, replied 

“And if you get the chance, get a sweetroll for that poor boy Joric, he needs some more meat on his bones otherwise he’ll freeze to death overnight”. 

Larina smiled and reassured her that she would fetch one, and held the door open for her as she left her room. As they both walked together down the hallway, Larina asked,

“You know the unused sitting room between the rooms here?” and waited for the older Breton to nod in response before continuing, 

“Rather than using it as a storeroom, after I’ve spoken to my uncle first, would you mind if I decorated it myself?....I’ve had a few ideas you see”. 

Before turning the corner to the kitchens, Voada called after her, 

“It’ll be the  _ steward _ you need to speak to, not your uncle” and Larina knew she was probably right. 

As she waited for Kerah to join her in the inner sanctum, Larina’s gaze flitted between the laboratory to the hall down which the Justiciar’s office was located. It felt strange not instantly going to help Calcelmo but at least she could return to him this afternoon: maybe even pick up a sweetroll for him too. 

Once Kerah arrived, Larina trailed after her, hoping to allow her to convince her uncle suitably first, remembering what happened last time she was in the throne room. Today her uncle was only accompanied by the steward, Faleen and Thongvar Silver-Blood: Larina remembered her conversation with Calcelmo the day before and left her gaze lingering upon the woman for a few moments, hoping to gain some inspiration. Calling Faleen beautiful was like romanticising a sabre cat, she’d probably thank you for the compliment after shredding you to bits. 

Realising she had zoned out, Larina refocused herself, listening to what Kerah had to say.

“No more than two hours  _ maximum _ , I have a meeting with Lisbet that Larina can accompany me on, browsing her wares whilst we discuss business and then we’ll walk right back”. Larina’s gaze quickly flicked to her uncle, hoping to gage his reaction. Like usual he was sitting slumped in his seat, head resting on his arm, looking bored. 

Stepping to Kerah’s side, Larina added, 

“I’ve not bought  _ anything _ new since my arrival uncle, I haven’t needed to really, I have not grown much” either trauma or her mother’s genes had stunted that, “I feel quite conscious of the fact that my garments are outdated for  _ your _ court and I will outgrow them soon”. 

“If this was such a problem before, we could have sent a servant for you…” Jarl Igmund responded, almost reluctant to relent. 

“But you could not guarantee they fit or were in style, my Jarl” Kerah smiled, backing her up. 

“ _ Fine _ ….” Jarl Igmund sighed and turned to Faleen before he spoke,

“Find two guards to accompany them and keep them safe, you have  _ two _ hours Larina,  _ nothing _ more” Larina bobbed a quick curtsy and thanked him, two hours were better than nothing after all. 

They did not need to wait long for their accompaniment, Larina assumed it was because her uncle wanted her back as soon as possible. Safely accompanied, together they began their journey, as they walked down alongside the river, Kerah asked, 

“I heard Thonar has ordered special paints and parchments for you, that’s rather  _ kind _ of him” Larina wondered if she was collecting gossip for her aunt and was cautious with her words. 

“Yes, the kind of work he wants commissioned, I don’t have  _ any _ of the appropriate tools for” Kerah appeared to accept the excuse, and asked her a few idle conversations about her research with Calcelmo on the way to the trading company. 

“Surely it must be a  _ little _ dull to spend all your time in there?” Kerah asked sincerely and Larina responded with a shake of her head. 

“ _ Actually _ , Calcelmo is currently working on renovating an old piece of dwemer technology that I think you would be quite interested in” Larina removed her timepiece from the belt at her waist and unlatched it to show her. 

“Made from Silver-Blood silver and powered by a soul gem, it tells the time” Larina had still not gotten bored from seeing their reactions to Calcelmo’s work. 

“I will have to tell my husband about this, I am sure he would be quite interested…” Kerah responded before holding the door open for Larina at Arnleif and Sons. 

Still remaining awkwardly paused in the threshold, Larina waited as Kerah spoke privately with Lisbet at her desk before gesturing for her to join them. 

“Me and Lisbet have to retire to the back room for a short while to discuss some boring business, but at that table there, she has laid out for you the new clothes she has had ordered in”

“Take a look” the Nordic woman smiled, “and once you are ready, bring them to the counter and either Imedhnain or myself when I return will total” her smile was genuine as they left together, leaving Larina to browse. 

There were only a handful of garments available but Larina held each one up to the light in close inspection, she knew the coin on her hip would only stretch so far and she had to make sure she could buy something both within her means and attractive. So far she had set aside three long-sleeved linen dresses, in grey, dark blue and a wheat colour and another dark coloured kirtle and some tunics: the darker the colours, the less they showed up dust and dirt in the laboratory. It was as she was folding the dresses up and taking them to the counter, that Kerah and Lisbet re-appeared. 

Looking over her items, Lisbet remarked, 

“They are all rather  _ reserved  _ my dear, and such muted colours, have you not seen the silks?”. 

A creature of habit, Larina replied, 

“Where I am from, the more natural colours are more popular, I guess that’s what I’m so used to leaning to”. The woman nodded but walked to a large, wooden chest nearby and removed something: laying the fabric out on her counter, she gestured for Larina and Kerah to come take a look. 

Holding it up against Larina’s figure, she noticed that Kerah smiled at her slyly. Larina took it out of her hand’s and looked over it herself, surprised at how beautiful she had found it. Made of silk and the colour of dark sea-foam, the dress was c _ ertainly _ a lot thinner than she was used to. High waisted, the upper sleeves billowed out slightly before slimming the arms and Larina realised that it would leave her shoulders entirely exposed. 

Her face flushed red, 

“I don’t think I can wear something like this…”

“ _ Nonsense _ ” Kerah tutted and removed the dress from her grasp and added it to her pile of clothes on the counter. “It’s time you started dressing more like a woman...and I’m  _ sure _ Thonar would appreciate it” Larina ignored her sly comments. 

She joined Lisbet at the counter and asked how much it would all cost in total. 

Adding them all together, she remarked. 

“30 Septims”. Larina removed the gold from her leather purse and realised she was short. 

Her cheeks flushed again as she apologised, 

“The last dress you’ll have to put back I’m afraid….” 

Lisbet shook her head, “Please it’s no trouble, I’ll knock a few septims off, you’re the  _ niece _ of the Jarl, he has helped make sure my business has been supported since the rebellion, it's the least I can do!” 

Larina shook her head, 

“No  _ please _ I insist, keep a hold of the dress and I’ll return with the extra money in a few days”, Larina thought of her work with Thonar, hoping she could pay her back. 

“Those shoes we were talking about before Lis? Add those and that silver and moonstone carcanet and I’ll pay the excess that Miss Devereaux is short” Kerah interrupted, waving Larina silent as she began to interrupt. 

She had no choice but to let Kerah pay the rest, knowing that she must have  _ something _ in mind for her to return her the favour. 

As they stepped outside the shop, Larina knew Kerah sensed her apprehension and explained, 

“Endon must leave us for Riften for a few weeks, away on business” though she tried to hide it, Larina could sense her anxiety. “I was hoping that once you had finished Liesel’s portrait, you would do one of my Adara to take with him? I’ll pay you of course”. 

Larina smiled to herself for a moment before replying, 

“The dress, shoes and necklace you paid for, is more than enough, I would be happy too” and she linked Larina in her arm, turning her to walk back up to the Keep. 

Realising what she had forgotten, Larina sheepishly asked, 

“ _ Actually _ , if you wouldn’t mind adding two sweetrolls to the payment, that would be  _ perfect _ ”, Kerah looked at her in confusion for a moment but bought two from the baker’s stall nonetheless. 

As they began their slow ascent to the Keep, Larina explained, 

“I owe a servant a favour and this was the payment…” laughing almost at her words as Kerah cast her a strange look. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another filler chapter I'm afraid ;w; but I promise two exciting ones tomorrow!
> 
> I also used the tudor phrase "carcanet" rather than choker as I didn't think it sounded exactly like good medieval fantasy, but that's essentially what the necklace is like...


	18. A Sweet Apology

Thanking Kerah for her kindness again, Larina left her in the inner sanctum as she returned to her room to hang up her new dresses, paper bag filled with sweetrolls in her other hand. Larina assumed she would go off to find Daciana and indulge her in their day together, but as far as she was aware, she had not incriminated herself at all. Dashing back to her room, she had found that Voada had made her bed with fresh linen and her clean clothes had been laid out on her bed. Larina hung them up alongside her new garments that she had unpacked from the brown paper, laying her eyes on the carcanet and shoes for the first time. The silver and moonstone glinted softly in the dwemer light, clearly Kerah understood her interest in jewellery more so than Thonar, its beauty subtle and understated. She realised by the length of the chain that it would be quite close to her neck, she had never worn a piece of jewelry like it. The shoes too were unusual, made of brown leather, they were slightly pointed at the tip, exposing the skin on the top of her foot and Larina realised that the straps to keep them in place would snake up around her ankles. They weren’t a style befitting a Nordic court, and as beautiful as they were, Larina could not help but think that Kerah and her aunt were still conspiring to make her stick out. As she placed the beautiful shoes in the bottom of her wardrobe, Larina hoped she was just being paranoid. 

After rushing around, Larina decided to forgo her shawl in her room, she was warm enough as it was, and dashed to the kitchen to deliver her pastried apology for Joric. She was pleased to find him momentarily alone in the kitchen, at the sink cleaning the breakfast dishes, as he looked over his shoulder to see who had come barreling in, he didn’t look too pleased to see her. 

Dropping his gaze to the soapy water he asked,

“Are you supposed to be here Miss?” his voice a mixture of subservience and distrust. He clearly knew about her stealing his shirt, and evidently felt betrayed. Larina unwrapped one of the sweetrolls and placed it on a clean plate next to him. 

“I thought I’d come to apologise” she smiled sheepishly, gesturing to the treat,

“I don’t know if Voada explained to you why I took it….not that it matters really, I’m really sorry to have betrayed your trust”. Larina lingered next to him, hoping he’d accept her apology. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, I’m a  _ servant _ ” he mumbled back, keeping his focus on cleaning the pots. 

“Of  _ course _ I have to apologise to you Joric, it was completely wrong of me to take advantage of you like that, I  _ do _ hope you will accept my apology, and maybe we can be friends?” his silence made her bulk, he was in his right to not forgive her, though the thought made her feel completely rotten.

Finally turning to face her, the young Nord asked, 

“Are we  _ allowed _ to be friends…?”

Larina grinned as he eyed up the sweetroll next to him, 

“I’d like to see them try and stop us” she replied defiantly and offered her hand for him to shake. 

Joric grinned in response, removing a soaking and soapy hand from the water and shook it, making Larina squeal. 

“Apology and friendship accepted! Especially if you bring me  _ more _ sweetrolls”. Larina smiled, glad that he had accepted her apology and left him to continue working lest he get in trouble.

When she finally joined Calcelmo in his laboratory, he noticed she had a spring in her step. 

“I take it your uncle let you visit the Market?” he asked, watching her dramatically reveal his sweetroll and brought it to him. 

Larina slid into the seat closest to him and replied, 

“Yes indeed! And I do have something exciting to share with you” she grinned. 

Between bites of his sweetroll, Calcelmo responded sarcastically,

“Oh  _ do _ share, you know how much I love hearing about  _ dresses _ ”.

Larina tutted and rolled her eyes, 

“Don’t be bitter because you know you can’t wear them as well as  _ me _ ” she responded with equal sarcasm before pinching a piece of his treat. “I am quite sure that you know that the Silver-Blood’s and Silver-Smith’s now partially own Arnhielf and Sons?”.

“Yes” Calcelmo nodded, “I was present at the morning meeting with the heads of the families and the steward. I was quite surprised that I had to be involved until I found out why…” Larina was quite interested to hear about the inner technicalities of the meetings she was rarely allowed to. 

“Now that the Reach is becoming more stable, not counting the recent attacks of course, your uncle has finally made a clear decision of whose side he is on with the War, the  _ Empire _ . It caused some derision but he hopes that by standing with the Emperor he will gain support from them and the Thalmor in advancing the city. An unfortunate amount was lost in the Rebellion but he wants to rebuild Markarth as a powerful stronghold in the West. Using the financial resources of Markarth’s noble families, one of the things your uncle wants to do is improve the shops of the Market and increase financial investment in the city, with how impactful our silver is on the country’s economy it does make sense…”. 

“So what was  _ your _ involvement?” Larina asked, slightly confused. 

“I informed him about the importance of Nchuand-Zel, how powerful Markarth really would be if we had the only Dwemer ruins that were completely safe for researchers and mages to investigate. We would certainly have visitors from all over Tamriel. Did you know there used to be a magickal college here?” when he saw Larina shake her head, Calcelmo continued. 

“Tiber Septim established a college for the study of the  _ voice _ here in the city, though some did not view it as important as the other colleges…”

“The same kind of  _ voice _ Ulfric used to kill the High King?” Larina interrupted. 

“Indeed, the  _ same _ one, there are orders already established in Skyrim for studying the  _ voice _ , the Greybeards at High Hrothgar for example, who would be  _ fascinating _ to meet. But they are focused on the more  _ passive _ nature of the  _ voice _ , Septim’s college focused on how to use that power for warfare. It was lost in time well before the fourth century, scholars are still unsure  _ how _ or  _ when _ . If your uncle wants to redefine the city to be as cultured as Solitude he needs to invest in its scholarly reputation as well as its  _ financial _ one”. Larina smiled at the thought that the city might be free of its reputation of bloodshed and treachery. She had no idea how long she would be stuck here, seeing it culturally change would be a vast improvement. 

“So...what is it you wanted to tell me?” Calcelmo pried. 

“Oh yes!” Larina had lost her train of thought for a moment, “I showed Kerah Silver-Smith your timepiece earlier on and she was quite impressed, I think with Thonar’s interest too they will probably invest in your work!”. His reaction wasn’t exactly the one she had expected. 

“I would have rather you left that for  _ me _ to organise Larina” but seeing the look of disappointment on her face, the older Mer continued. 

“But I appreciate it nonetheless my dear, if you have a bit of free time perhaps you can start sketching some of the individual pieces of one I am working on for me?”. Larina nodded with a smile, collecting the half-created timepiece from his desk and began sketching its tiny details. 

Together they sat, working mostly in silence save for a few conversations, for a few hours until they were interrupted by a courier. Taking the documents off the man, Calcelmo thanked him with a smile and placed them before her. 

“Would you like to see the bathing room designs?” Larina dropped her quill with a grin and replied, “ _ certainly _ more interesting than a bunch of dusty cogs!”. 

  
  


Seeing her excitement, Calcelmo offered her the documents and allowed her to look through them. Larina noted that they had been sent four designs and she began to browse them. The first was fairly plain, the bathing pool had been lit with dishes of candles, and wooden furniture decorated the area, simple and plain. The second was no different, except in lighter furniture and more rugs, this time little statues and vases had decorated the room. The third design was for a room with a ceiling higher than those of the Understone, more curves and glass, evidently an altmer design. They would never be able to achieve that sort of light in the depths of the mountain. But there was an aspect that Larina liked, 

“ _ Look _ at this one, there are little plinths along the wall with statues and vases on, I think that could be something we could incorporate in our bathing rooms, but with pieces of dwemer art don’t you think? And look  _ here _ … where the water fills the bathing pool there is a statue of Auriel, I think if we replace that with  _ Dibella _ , especially since it's here in Markarth, it would look nicer”.

Calcelmo smiled at her words and responded, 

“Looks like this is bringing out the  _ designer _ in you…” 

“It’s all a form of  _ art _ ” Larina responded with a grin, looking over the final design. 

This one appealed to her more aesthetically, beautifully dark, muted colours. The walls were either covered in silks or tapestries, something more appealing than painted stone. There were small tables in various places either covered in candles or incense pots and the water feature was decorated with gems. There were a variety of plants that created a vibrancy to the room and rather than have the changing area closed off with walls and doors, there were heavy drapes and a half a partition. 

“ _ This _ one is beautiful!” Larina remarked.

“Well...it's your aunt we ultimately have to convince…” Calcelmo responded.

“So who's going to be the one to show her the designs?” Larina asked and when she finally brought her gaze up from them, she realised he had been watching her, eyebrows slightly raised. 

“By the  _ gods _ Calcelmo, do I  _ really _ have to do it?” Larina sighed, watching as he gave a resigned shrug. 

Collecting the documents, Larina shifted off her seat with a groan and headed to leave, turning with a sly grin at the last moment. 

“I do this on _ one _ condition” the older Mer regarded her with uncertainty. 

“You  _ actually _ let me write you a poem for Faleen  _ and _ deliver it”. She knew she had asked him before but could not count on his partially verbal answer. The older Mer replied with a curt 

“Fine” and waved her off. 

Larina really wished she had not drawn the short straw on this one. She asked a servant passing through the inner sanctum if they knew where her aunt would be, already knowing what the answer was. Most of the hours of the day Daciana would either be drinking in her waiting room until Kerah arrived, or tending to her flowers in the hot house. She assumed that her aunt would be in the latter, based on the idea it was not acceptable in the court for her drinking this early. The hot house was a fairly recent addition to the Keep, located in the personal rooms on the left side of the throne room, the floor above the kitchen and the servants quarters. The hallway only housed a small number of rooms, the Great Hall, the hot house, Daciana’s parlour and her uncle’s retiring room, the place where unofficial meetings took place. The hot house was one of the rooms that had been found in disarray but chosen due to the fact that it’s half-caved ceiling revealed it was partially exposed in the mountain and saw the sky. That part of the ceiling had been replaced with glass and when the room was split in two, was where the warmer climate flowers were grown: the other room, cooled by a dwemer pipe system that Calcelmo had designed, was where the colder climate flowers were produced. 

Larina wished that she had an excuse to spend more time there, it was a beautiful place. But it was also Daciana’s pride and joy, her ability to grow flowers that were not native to the Reach. She found her aunt there, sat on one of the stone chairs, a glass of wine in one hand as she regarded her work.  _ Clearly not too early in the court _ , Larina mused to herself. Once she saw her niece enter, Daciana rolled her eyes and asked, 

“Why have you come to bother my solitude?” evidently annoyed at her niece's presence. 

Larina gritted her teeth and replied as pleasantly as possible, “the designs for the bathing rooms have arrived, I thought you might want to see them before the Steward?” her answer was accepted and Daciana gestured for her to leave them on the table next to her. 

She waited patiently, hands clasped behind her back, for  _ any _ kind of response from her aunt. Once she realised that Daciana was regarding them all individually and intently, much to Larina’s surprise, she began to walk slowly around the flower beds taking them all in, enjoying their scents. 

“This fourth one is quite visually pleasing” her aunt drawled and Larina was surprised she wanted her opinion. Walking quickly to her aunt’s side, Larina took them in, pretending she had not looked them over before. 

Nodding in agreement, Larina replied, “ _ yes _ , the colours are quite pleasant”. 

“The statues are lovely idea, but I want  _ Auriel _ replaced by statues of Mara, Dibella and Kyne” amongst the flowers that grew here, Daciana collected vases from all over Tamriel and decorated the hot house with them and statues of those feminine gods: though it irked Larina that her aunt referred to Kynareth by her  _ Nordic _ name.

She rose from her seat and began walking around the flower beds again, feeling uncomfortable by the fact her aunt was watching her. Amongst the various mountain flowers and berries, Larina stopped before the more deadly blooms: deathbell and nightshade. 

“ _ My mother’s favorite _ ” Larina murmured. 

“I  _ know _ ” Daciana’s presence behind her made her jump: for the first time since her arrival, Larina realised she was regarding her with tenderness, as if fully remembering their connection. 

“She always said their beauty was overlooked by their deadliness… it was  _ your _ mother that got me into flowers” she revealed, Larina did not know what to say. The only thing she knew about them was that Daciana was the elder sibling, and that was  _ after _ her arrival in Markarth. 

Taking the chance, Larina impulsively asked her aunt, 

“What happened between you two? I didn’t know you  _ existed _ until mother died…. And why do you take it out on me?” she could not hide the hurt in her voice. 

The kindness in Daciana’s eyes quickly dissipated when she replied, 

“ _ Your _ mother made a stupid mistake and  _ you _ were the result and I  _ don’t _ like being reminded of it” the malice in her voice made her step back, leaving more confusion in her than before. 

Hoping to return some that kindness, Larina murmured back,

“There is an unused room on my floor that is  _ too _ perfect to be left as storage space, I was hoping to turn it into a reading room and grow flowers -”

“I don’t care what you do with the  _ dirty _ room” Daciana interrupted, returning to her seat and the designs. “ _ I _ will look over the design and report to the steward which is best” and dismissed her niece with a wave of her hand. 

  
  


Larina left the hot house with a defeated sigh and headed back to her room to mull over her aunt’s confession and what it meant. The silence in her hallway was deafening. Removing her shoes, Larina climbed into her bed and smothered herself in her blanket and wept slightly, trying to figure it all out. How could she be her mother’s  _ mistake _ , Larina rubbed her tears from her cheeks, agitated that her aunt had gotten to her so. Retrieving a notebook from her bedside table, she sat and made beginning drafts of Calcelmo’s poem until it was time to get dressed for dinner. 

She washed her face in the basin and tied her hair on top of her head with a green strip of fabric, her curls too uncontrollable from the outside winds and steam of Calcelmo’s laboratory. Larina dressed in her moss green dress, not wanting to wear one of her new outfits just yet. Sulkingly she headed to the dinner table, disappointed not to find Calcelmo or at least the Silver-Smith’s joining them. She would have to endure Thonar for another evening. 

As the table descended into conversation, he picked up on her pushing her stew around her bowl, filling her stomach slowly with wine instead. 

“You seem rather  _ melancholy _ this evening my dear” he whispered in her ear, and Larina suppressed all of her energy to not stab him with her spoon. “It is a rather  _ unique _ beauty that you hold” she did not respond to his words but simply narrowed her eyes in annoyance. With a sly grin he continued, “that’s  _ exactly _ what I mean… I am sure you will be  _ delighted _ to know that your tools arrived early this evening, so hopefully we can continue tomorrow with Liesel’s portrait?”. 

Larina simply nodded and took another sip of her wine. 

As they began to depart from the dining table, Larina made sure to catch up with the steward before he momentarily disappeared in search of more mead and wine. 

Grabbing his arm quickly, she briefly asked, 

“If you have a moment steward, I have something I’d like to ask”. 

Raerek shook his arm from her grip, ever since she had arrived he had never formally accepted her relation to Jarl. “Make it quick…” he responded. 

She found herself equally annoyed at his presence as he was to hers but responded quickly nonetheless, 

“There is an unoccupied room on my floor, amongst my room, the Justiciar’s and the other three made up for guests. With its size and balcony it is  _ too _ nice to be used as a storage space. I would like to turn it into a parlour with whatever materials will be left over from the decoration of the bathing room and I’ll even chip in with some of my own money”. 

Regarding her with a smirk, the steward replied,

“I  _ hope _ you have a lot of  _ personal _ finance” before leaving her where she stood. 

_ It’s better than a no _ , Larina mused to herself, joining her aunt and Kerah at their table. The look Daciana shot her clearly implied she was still annoyed at their conversation from early. At any chance she could get, she would deliberately steer the conversation from her niece's participation, even when Thonar joined them. 

He seated himself next to her, moving his chair even closer to her, rewarding Larina with more daggers from her aunt. 

“I hear the paints you ordered for Larina have arrived this afternoon Thonar, once you are finished with her make sure to send her  _ my _ way” Kerah spoke, either unaware or ignoring the annoyance it caused Daciana. 

“I  _ don’t _ understand why both of you are so interested in her silly scribblings” she replied with a sigh before taking another sip of wine. 

Neither of them came to her defence, and Larina sunk further into her seat. As Edurne and Liesel pestered the bard to play the lute and allow them to sing, awfully out of tune, Larina hoped she would either be dismissed or the gods would bless her with deafness. 

When her personal miracle did not occur, Larina sat patiently until her aunt finally accepted her requests to retire, after feigning her applause for her cousin’s  _ talent _ . As she slowly walked her route back to her room and down the dimly lit hall, regretting not eating more for dinner as the effects of her wine began to hit her. 

Back in her room, Larina turned down the dwemer lights and undressed into her nightwear. As she crawled into bed, she grabbed the poem she was working on earlier and spent another hour or so focused on it, hoping her additions would make sense in the morning. 

As tiredness began to make her eyes droop, Larina put the parchment and quill aside and sunk deeper into her bed, her blankets making her feel too warm but safe. 

She had only gotten an hour or so of sleep until she was woken by a rapid, urgent knocking at her bedroom door… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that....a brief moment of kindness from Daciana?


	19. Out of the depths

At first Larina though the knocking was the strange background noise to her dream, until the fervent banging jolted her awake. Her stomach flipped as she quickly dragged herself out of bed, throwing her blanket around herself for modesty and answered the door: surprised to find Joric stood there, evidently quickly and haphazardly dressed, candlestick in hand. The poor boy was breathing hard and fast, clearly having rushed here. 

“By the  _ gods _ Joric, whatever is the matter?” she asked, hoping he would catch his breath and explain himself, her anxiety increasing with every second. 

“T..the  _ researchers _ , they’re back! V...Voada…. She told me to tell you at once” he wheezed between each word, his response finally dawning on her. Despite her shakiness, Larina moved as quickly as she could, turning her back on him and ditching her blanket for the cloak draped across her chair and tied it tightly around herself. 

Stepping into the hallway, Larina closed her bedroom door and thanked him. 

“You can leave now…” realising he was fully dressed and not in bed clothes she asked, 

“What do you have to do now?”. 

Finally catching his breath he replied, 

“We have to make sure these rooms are ready for the researchers so they can rest…”, Larina nodded and left him to work, heading as quickly as she could towards the laboratory. 

She was stopped short at the sight of them, spilled out into the inner sanctum and members of the Keep only half dressed. Surrounded by members of the Markarthian and Thalmor guard, her uncle was supported by the steward, Faleen, Thongvar and Calcelmo, all looking shaken and half-awake. The researchers were either standing supported by the guards, or slumped on the floor, clearly exhausted. Once he spotted her there, Aicantar forward and hugged her, his tight embrace taking her by surprise. 

“By the  _ gods _ Aicantar… what happened?” his face was bruised and cut, but plastered with a grin. 

“We’ve  _ done _ it...cleared the ruins and you won’t believe what we’ve seen” he grinned in response, Larina ignored his comment, happy that he was alive. 

“Did all of you make it back?” she asked, taking in the exhausted party. 

Rubbing the back of his head, Aicantar replied, 

“We lost two workers and three guards to the Falmer… but it  _ could _ have been worse”. He was right of course and she wanted to pry more into his adventure until Calcelmo pulled him away to confer with her uncle and the steward. 

Making herself useful, Larina noticed that Faleen was distributing blankets and water amongst the researchers, and began to help. As she handed them out amongst the workers, she noticed the dunmeri student was sat on the floor amongst them reassuring them,

“Their bodies  _ will _ be retrieved and their families will be paid” he was the only one talking to them whilst the guards fussed around the students and the Thalmor agent. Larina sat beside him and handed him a blanket,

“Well done for making it out alive at least”.

“I could say the same for  _ you _ ” he grinned back. “I had hoped you got caught straight away..” he asked, looking her over. Larina felt rather under-dressed in her nightclothes and gown.

“Yeah…” she nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “the Justiciar clocked me straight away, didn’t want me  _ jeopardising _ the expedition, why… did you get  _ worried _ ?” she playfully asked. 

“I did actually…” his words taking her by surprise, “a few hours in I had noticed you were gone, that evening when we made camp they noticed I kept looking over my shoulder, wondering where  _ you _ were. I hoped you had been caught straight away rather than being taken by the Falmer. Your  _ friend _ noticed something wasn’t right and confronted me. I pulled him to one side and told him privately… you’re  _ welcome _ ” he grinned. “He cares about you a lot you know….” he probed, waiting for her response. 

Larina looked down at the blankets in her hands before replying, 

“I  _ know _ , he acts like my older brother a lot”. He was clearly happy by her response and informed her, 

“He came quite protective of  _ her _ too” he gestured to the Nordic woman with a flick of his head, “but I don’t think that was as  _ familial _ ”. Larina wondered what he meant, as she cast her gaze over the Nordic student, who was helping her brother to retrieve some water and limping slightly. 

“Attention everybody….” her uncle called, interrupting their conversation, “but I have just been informed that the rooms are available for the researchers and for the workers to rest the night, I suggest everyone get some rest before we convene in the afternoon to discuss the expedition” and at his words they all began to disperse. 

Faleen pulled her to one side and asked, 

“Would you mind showing the researchers to their rooms, they will be staying on your floor and have divided the rooms up amongst themselves”. Larina nodded and gestured for them to follow her. 

The rest began to drag behind, but Drulis caught up and kept pace with her. 

“So this is the side of the Keep you live in huh?” he asked with a smile. 

Larina could not hide her grin, “yes, not that  _ you _ will be seeing my rooms' ' her flirtations with him surprising her. 

“Why so far from everyone he asked”, sincerity in his tone. 

“The views are better -” larina replied before being interrupted by the Thalmor agent. 

“I am assuming that Corrilian will not be staying on this side of the Keep, pray tell where his rooms are, I must meet with him straight away” his look towards her only contained disgust and annoyance and Larina was glad to interrupt his plans. 

“The Justiciar’s room  _ is _ on this side of the keep, but I regret to inform you he has been called away to the city of Falkreath until….” Larina realised with the skip of her heart that he would be back “....tomorrow”. 

Once they reached the rooms, Larina gestured to the three available, and stated, 

“Faleen has told me you have agreed amongst yourselves who is staying where?” and was only met by a bunch of tired yawns of agreement. Waiting to make sure they entered the right ones, Larina watched as the Thalmor agent took one room for himself and the other two rooms were divided between the male and female students. 

Returning to her own room and her bed, Larina re-settled herself in, tucking herself into her bed, trying to calm the racing of her mind and settle into sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a short, filler chapter ;w; but you will get two tomorrow and one from our Justiciar's point of view....


	20. The Poem

After tossing and turning all night, Larina pulled herself out of bed after only a few hours sleep. They were  _ back _ , and she was eager to pick Aicantar’s brain and discover what he had seen. She washed her face in her basin and dressed in her brown kirtle and a tunic. Hoping to not appear too overly eager, Larina waited until Voada arrived with her breakfast tray. The poor older Breton looked exhausted as she handed it over, clearly having had little sleep herself. Larina knew it would not have been from excitement. 

“Have they had you working all night Voada?” Larina cast her gaze over her in concern. 

Voada nodded, “luckily the rooms for those students to use had already been renovated, but we had to squeeze the workers in with the servants and turf them out this morning, poor sods. The servants here did not trust them as far as they could throw them, it's been a pretty unuseasy night”. 

Setting her breakfast tray down, Larina quickly returned to her and hugged her tightly and sincerely. 

“Will you have time to rest at all?” she asked, only to receive a curt shake of her head in response. 

“The Justiciar is set to return this afternoon and from the rumours in the kitchens the Jarl would like to throw a feast and welcome everyone back, those poor students, they survived the ruins only to face bandits next”, a motherly look of concern flashed across her face. 

Larina gave her another reassuring squeeze,

“ _They_ finished their education at the college Voada, they can protect themselves, I’m sure a handful of bandits is _nothing_ compared to those dwemer contraptions and Falmer” the older Breton appeared somewhat reassured. 

“I heard you managed to sneak Joric a sweetroll, that was kind of you Larina” she smiled. 

“It was  _ your _ suggestion after all Voada,” Larina responded, “but I’m glad we can be friends now”. 

Voada tutted back at her, “that’s even more likely to get him into trouble you know”. 

But Larina simply playfully grinned back, 

“What he does in his time  _ after _ work is not the concern of the Keep” adamant to keep her new and only friend. 

“When he's finished work he wolfs down his supper and then goes straight to sleep, tired from doing  _ real _ work, maybe you might know what that means someday….” realising what she had said, Voada nervously looked around her. With the city living through two rebellion's, any talk of another, even in jest, was never taken lightly. 

“I’ll have you know I helped my parents pull crops on our farm  _ thank you _ ” she responded but Larina knew she was right, she had not experienced any real work or hardships. How many orphans in Tamriel could say that when their parents died they came to live at a Jarl’s court. 

Voada simply laughed at her words and left her to her breakfast. 

Knowing she needed to kill time, the students were probably still resting anyway, Larina ate her breakfast slowly, disappointed that there were no more dates this time. She wondered if she could work up the courage to ask the Justiciar for some more. Larina quickly grabbed her shawl in case she was cool, and stopped momentarily at the dressing table. Dabbing some of her perfume on her neck and wrists, Larina caught her reflection in the looking glass and wondered,  **_what on earth are you doing_ ** ? She rarely wore it even in the evenings with the court, let alone to the laboratory. But she knew in the back of her mind who she wore it for. She grabbed her small satchel from the bottom of her wardrobe and added her journal to it, hoping to squeeze some time for extra work on her poem.

She felt uncomfortable leaving her breakfast tray outside of her door, an extra unnecessary job for the servants to complete but at least they weren’t coming all the way over here for just her, especially now that four of the five rooms were occupied. 

Heading towards the laboratory, Larina had expected to find Calcelmo alone, with the students still resting from their expedition, only to find the two destruction mages accompanying him. Seeing her enter, Drulis flashed her wink and Larina responded with a quick smile. 

“What brings us the pleasure of seeing you so early in the morning?” he grinned, and Larina slid into her usual seat, resting her satchel on the desk. 

“I’m  _ always _ here at this time to assist Calcelmo in his research, but why are  _ you _ here?” she asked back. 

Calcelmo interrupted, watching her with an apprehensive gaze. 

“Surprisingly, the Jarl woke early this morning and requested a meeting with Aicantar, those nordic siblings and the Thalmor Justiciar about the expedition…” he explained. 

“ _ Actually _ , Estormo isn’t a Justiciar, just an agent working for the Justiciar in Winterhold, though he  _ does _ act like one” the other destruction mage replied, expressing clear annoyance at the Mer’s mere presence. Larina tried to remember what his name was. 

“Marcurio is right”,  _ thank the gods for Drulis _ Larina thought, “I suspect he is fighting for the position though, he tried to prove himself whilst we were navigating the ruins, an attack by the Falmer soon had him whistling another tune” the dunmer student continued. 

Larina had expected it to happen but still his words shocked her, and she was disappointed to see that Calcelmo had no reaction at all to his nephew’s apparent danger. 

Leaning forward on her arm, Larina asked, 

“What happened…” eager to know more, even down to the horrid details. 

“We had lost a worker hours before, despite those of us who need less sleep keeping watch, we didn’t see him disappear. When we continued deeper into the ruins we had this strong feeling of being watched. Aicantar informed us of his uncle’s studies and how the Falmer hunt, picking us off one by one. 

But a few hours later when we had stopped to eat, a small group attempted an attack on us, killed two of the guards and another worker, almost killed Thonja too if Aicantar didn’t step in to save her”. Calcelmo smiled at his words, showing a small glimpse of pride. 

“Were you only attacked once?” the older Mer asked. 

“We found a second group deeper in, spotted them before they caught wind of us, but someone accidentally made a noise and alerted us” Marcurio responded, “we lost another worker there and almost lost the agent and Mina, would be worse walking into Oblivion if we didn’t come out of the ruins with  _ him _ ” he spat. “But it's why Mina is resting now, the attack shook her up pretty badly”. 

_ Poor girl _ , Larina thought, knowing she would have been the same in that position, before asking

“So why aren’t you in the meeting with the rest of them?” 

“Only the most important were needed” Drulis grinned, “but clearly we had the better luck of the draw”. Larina’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“Well if you’re going to stand around perhaps you can assist me for a while” the older Mer interrupted, even with their success, he did not like people using his laboratory as a retiring room. “Whoever is better at alchemy can organize and record the new samples I’ve been given, and the other can help me with cataloging the new pieces of technology ready for Miss Devereaux to draw”. Marcurio joined Calcelmo at his desk, quill in hand, whilst Drulis grabbed the apothecary satchel and sunk into the chair opposite her. 

Larina flashed him a smile and informed him,

“Make sure you get _all_ of the details right, Calcelmo is very particular about his research” and was returned with a determined nod. Forcing herself to continue with her work, knowing Calcelmo would make her leave if she was sitting idle, Larina finished her sketch from the day before, waiting for Marcurio to bring her some of the newer technology. She could feel Drulis’ gaze on her, finally snapping her head up to ask him if needed something. 

“Your technical skills are phenomenal for a lady of the court” he replied sarcastically, continuing with his cataloguing and asked, “aren’t you ladies supposed to be accomplished in singing or combing your hair?”. 

Larina could not hide her grin, 

“ _ Evidently _ , I’m a terrible courtier and I doubt no one here really considers my place” seeing the reaction on his face she rolled her eyes before continuing a condensed version of her tragedy, 

“When my parents died I was brought here from High Rock as my mother is sister to the Jarl’s wife. I grew up on a farm that grew alchemical ingredients, my father was a mage turned local healer and alchemist, he taught me to sketch what we grew but he was more interested in scientific drawings rather than romantic ones. ” it was little wonder she was struggling to paint Liesel in a prettier light. 

“It’s a shame about your parents” he replied in sincerity, “if they lived do you think you would have ended up at the College?”. 

Larina nodded, “my father wanted to send me and my brother there but he joined the Imperial army and they died before I was old enough to go on my own”. 

Reassuring her with a grin, Drulis replied, 

“There’s still time to join them...or hire a  _ private _ tutor”. The grin on Larina’s face spread and she was about to shoot back a sarcastic response before Aicantar entered the room with the twins. 

The nordic woman still had a limp to her gait and Larina wondered if it was from the attack but did not want to pry. When Aicantar began to talk, sharing with them the details of the meeting, Larina noticed her subtly keeping her gaze on him. Something she was definitely going to tease him about later. 

“The Jarl wants a written account of what we saw in the ruins and to make sure it's fully eradicated of Falmer nests… and then he will open Nchuand-Zel for  _ proper _ research” Aicanatar grinned and even Calcelmo could not hide his joy. 

“ _ Fantastic _ news my boy! I will be able to confer with researchers face to face rather than waiting for letters, I am  _ certain _ that the courier service in Skyrim is the slowest in Tamriel” but Larina wasn’t focusing on the idea of research. It was the prospect that  _ she _ could soon see the ruins for herself. 

Noticing her grin, Drulis asked, 

“So what’s got  _ you _ so excited?”.

“No one can stop being going in the next time” she grinned, her excitement even spreading to him. 

Aicantar came to join them at the table, as his uncle gestured for the nordic twins to come and speak to him, 

“I can’t wait for you to see the ruins, Larina, they were  _ astounding _ ” only to be met by a playful jab to his arm. 

“Yes rub it in Aicantar, why don’t you?” but she was too excited to really be annoyed. 

Giving her a one-armed hug, and wincing in the process, he responded, 

“It was safer for you to remain here” and he dropped his voice to a murmur, “Drulis told me about your escapade, and I am glad you were caught but  _ who _ spotted you, I didn’t even know you were there” he asked, inquisitive. 

Larina dropped her gaze to her work, “well I  _ was _ dressed like a boy, but it was the  _ Justiciar _ ” and tucked a strand of hair sheepishly behind her ear. 

A stern look grew on his face as he asked, “were you punished… where even is he? I expected that he would have been present at the meeting this morning”. 

“No, he didn’t tell anyone” her words were met by a look of concern by Aicantar, wondering like herself why he hadn’t told anyone. “But he was called away to Falkreath for some reason, and should be returning later this afternoon, the Jarl asked him to look into the rumours about the Afflicted being in the city”. 

The Mer nodded before replying,

“Yes I forgot about that, hopefully the Jarl will give them a few days to rest before sending them to clear out the camps”, that look of concern remained upon his face. They had risked a lot to help him with his research and clear out the ruins, was it really fair of her uncle to risk their lives again?

She was just about to inform them about the rumour she had heard of her uncle’s plan for a feast until they were interrupted by a servant in search of her. The poor woman looked terrified, not many of them felt comfortable setting foot in the laboratory, fearful of what lay inside the rumours. Bobbing a quick curtsy the woman informed her,

“Excuse me, miss? But Master Silver-Blood and his daughter are waiting in the Great Hall for you, something about a portrait meeting?” Larina groaned, and realising the shock on the woman’s face reassured her,

“Don’t worry, it’s my fault, I haven’t kept track of time”. She had forgotten about the fact the paints had been delivered earlier in the day, too excited about the return of the researchers.

Aicantar raised a quizzical eyebrow and Larina explained,

“Thonar requested I paint a portrait of Liesel, even paid and imported in pigments and proper parchment for me to complete it on, he’s paying me and everything, so really I can’t complain” but she really wanted to. “The Silver-Smith’s are interested in commissioning one as well”. 

“Sounds like you’re going to be too busy for us” Drulis joked, but Aicantar was not entertained.

As she reluctantly headed out of the laboratory, satchel slung over her shoulder and her shawl in her hands, he called after her,

“Just be careful….” She didn’t need telling twice. 

  
  


She found Thonar stood, waiting in the Great Hall, a look of frustration upon his face. 

“When I said I’d commission your work, I expect you to be on time” he snapped and Larina held her tongue, remembering his lateness before. Still he  _ was _ paying for her time and even bought her new tools. 

“My  _ apologies _ Thonar, and to you Liesel. I am also paid by Calcemo too and he needed me this morning what with the researchers returning”. 

Thonar simply rolled his eyes in response, 

“I do hope your work with him wont impact on  _ this _ project, I’m surprised you’re not more inclined to this one, more suitable to your skills and certainly less dusty”.  _ But more irritating _ , she thought to herself. 

“I like  _ both _ …” Larina replied through gritted teeth, before heading to the table closest to them to see what Thonar had ordered, half expecting to be dissapointed. 

Thonar pushed the box across the table towards her, it had already been opened, he had obviously wanted to take a look but she knew he wouldn’t be able to understand what they were. As she took out each little glass vial individually, Larina was mesmerised by the colours and their vibrancy. He watched her intently, smirking that  _ he _ was responsible for her joy. There were several rolls of fine parchment included too, and she rolled one out on a small wooden easel that she had packed in her satchel. 

“ _ Thank you _ Thonar, I do appreciate it” she smiled, feeling slightly sickened by her words and he feigned a bow in response. 

Larina dragged a wooden chair into the centre of the room again and directed Liesel to sit in it, surprised to see her wearing a long sleeved, white dress with a burgundy velvet vest. It looked like something owned by her mother, by how it was too large to fit her figure but Larina complimented her nonetheless, 

“It’s a beautiful dress Liesel, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you wear it to the court before” but the young girl said nothing in response. Remembering the concept sketches she had done, Larina politely asked her if she could change her hairstyle. 

“What’s the matter with it?” Liesel snapped back, “it’s how  _ we _ wear our hair here at court”, Larina bit her tongue. Her hair had been divided into two halves and braided intricately around her head, but did not fit the image she was going for: the tightness of her braids only sharpened her features and aged her in a not too pleasant way. 

Turning so that Thonar could hear her words too, Larina responded, 

“Well in my design I was planning on painting you representing the goddess Dibella, with your hair loose around your head and with a bouquet of mountain flowers in your lap” the two Silver-Blood’s gave her a confused look and Larina explained the symbolism to them, “I hear it's quite fashionable at the moment to paint young ladies depicting the goddesses as natural as possible, with little symbols representing their home cities that only the  _ learned _ can interpret, I am sure that if you ask my aunt she will be able to provide you with a few blue mountain flowers which are  _ our _ local ones” of course Daciana wouldn’t give him any of  _ her _ flowers, instead making find some outside of the Keep, but the thought of her aunt berating him entertained her. 

Her words clearly lightened Liesel’s mood as she flashed Larina a flattered smile and allowed her to change her hairstyle: luckily the braids unravelled caused her otherwise fine and straight hair to reveal itself in loose waves, ones that Larina herself was jealous of. Taking advantage of the moment, Larina positioned the young girl in her seat slightly turned, sitting up and her chin slightly raised: her side profile, especially in this light, was certainly more flattering. 

Pulling up her own chair and resting her small wooden easel, Larina settled herself into a more comfortable position and began her sketch. 

  
  


It took a lot of her concentration, that was frequently interrupted by Thonar, asking stupid questions that he thought were important. Still Larina answered them all, trying not to break her concentration. 

Perhaps it was the tiredness from the night before, but a sudden chill caused her arms to gooseflesh. Still looking down at her work, Larina asked, 

“Liesel I’ve grown quite cold, are you okay over there?”. 

“No I’m alright..” and she shook her head.

Larina forgave her that slight movement for the moment, until she felt Thonar’s clammy hands lingering on her shoulders for too long. He had brought her her shawl, either an act of kindness or excuse to touch her clothed skin. Larina suppressed her shudder, he had placed it on her awkwardly and it somewhat inhibited her movement. But she did not want to break her focus nor give him an excuse to touch her again. 

They sat for another hour or so until Larina felt that she had managed to get as much accomplished as possible, she rose from her seat and rested her easel on her chair and stretched. She realised that the poor girl still remained where she sat, waiting on her word to move like a well trained puppy.  _ The result of being constantly controlled _ , Larina wondered. 

“It’s okay Liesel, we’re done for the day, we’ll pick it up again tomorrow unless there’s a change of plan”. 

“Should I wear my hair down?” the young girl asked, rising from her chair and stretching herself. 

“No keep it braided” Larina smiled, glad to see a slight change in her temperament, “it’ll cause those waves again that frame your face beautifully”. She hadn’t realised until he dismissed his daughter from the room that Thonar had been watching their interaction intently. The look on his face made her feel uncomfortable, a feeling that was only increasing by the empty space occupied between them both. 

Larina gathered her things and brought them to the table, trying to use it to keep the distance between them. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to do with the tools you brought, they are yours after all” she tried not to meet his gaze. 

“Nonsense” he replied, taking a step closer to her, “consider them a  _ gift _ ” the way it dripped off his tongue caused her to shudder. “You said you had some sketched ideas before, I’d like to see them…”. Larina reluctantly agreed, retrieving her journal and stepped toward him, hoping to avoid standing too close. As she opened the pages to flick through the sketch, a scrap of paper fell out onto the floor. 

Thonar raised an eyebrow and she bent quickly to retrieve it but his reflexes were surprisingly quicker. 

She knew what it was and her cheeks already began to flush. 

“ _ Please _ Thonar, give it back” he noticed the panic in her voice and opened it to her dismay, raising an eyebrow as he read its contents, 

“ _ My Lover’s heart is numbing stone _

_ That hides in ice beneath our sight.  _

_ So some decry, ‘it is not there,’ _

_ Whilst others whisper, ‘yet it might’” _

A smirk was now etched upon his face, “are you writing  _ love poems _ Larina?” and he stepped uncomfortably close to her, “I would like to know  _ who _ your lover is” his grin made her uncomfortable, and it if it wasn’t for the fact he still held onto Calcelmo’s poem she would have rushed out of the room straight away. 

“It’s none of  _ your _ business” she snapped back, but she knew he would not hand it over if she was sarcastic and pleaded for him to hand it over. 

He stepped closer still and Larina instinctively put her hand out to stop him, accidentally leaving a charcoaled imprint on his chest. He grinned down at her,

“You’ll have to be careful my dear otherwise they might begin to assume it is for  _ me _ ”. His face was now dangerously close to hers and she was just about to spit back that she would rather walk into Oblivion, when they were interrupted by the clearing of a throat. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything” the Justiciar drawled, regarding them both with boredom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters are going to be from Corrilian's perspective! I hadn't anticipated writing them like that but there were a few chapters that I thought would work well like that...
> 
> Edit: I also forgot to say that the poem I'm quoting is the poem The Character gets from the bard in Markarth for Calcelmo! I quite liked it and wanted to fit it in in some way


	21. Returning to the Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a chapter from Corrilian's perspective...

“Sir... _ Sir _ ...we’re not far from the city now, I really think we should press on” the young thalmor soldier’s words pulled him out of his thoughts. They had stopped momentarily alongside the river to allow the horses to drink, Corrilian had been sat with one hand gripping the reins and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. Looking down, his wolves trailed around the legs of his steed, waiting for the sign to keep moving. 

“You’re right Falion, continue on” and Corrilian encouraged his horse to continue its cantor towards the city, if you had told him a few weeks ago that he would be desperate to return this wretch of a city he would have had them arrested, but now? He was all but worried that he had returned too soon. 

As they finally reached the walls of Markarth, Corrilian noticed that even more camps had been set up between the mine and the farm, an alarming prospect and he wondered how the Jarl was dealing with it. He dismounted by the stables and could see the Legate and a few of his men were waiting on the stone steps for them. As the soldier kept pace with him, Corrilian spoke to him quickly in altmeris, 

“ _ Your assistance is greatly appreciated Falion, and your silence will be further compensated” _ . 

The young soldier simply replied, “ _ all expected in my duty sir _ ”. 

“Corrilian” the Legate called out, “I thought you were supposed to be returning with a prisoner” and the Justiciar noted what appeared to be annoyance in his tone. He had risked too much in this mission and he was tired and waiting for his bed. Between gritted teeth he replied back, 

“We were ambushed on the return visit, the prisoner tried to escape and was killed, we were the only survivors”. 

He did not like the way the Legate looked at him, as if they were  _ equals _ , but he knew that he had to keep his anger in check. 

“If you don’t mind, I would like to return to the Keep” Corrilian drawled, “I will need to meet with the Jarl and to rest before I return to my work”. 

“I assume you will debrief me on the mission or write me a dossier?” the Legate enquired and Corrilian could not hide his scoff. 

“ _ This _ information is far above  _ your _ head, Legate..” he smirked before they headed towards the Keep. 

As he waited in the inner sanctum for the Jarl to be informed of his return, Corrilian dismissed Falion for a few days rest, pitying him with the knowledge that all he could do was stare at the walls in boredom: in any other city Falion would have drunk himself stupid on anything he could get his hands on and chased any woman with a pusle, one of the reasons why Corrilian had chosen him for one of his close guard. Knowing the vices of his men was the best way to control them. When the steward gestured for him to enter, Corrilian followed suit, leaving the wolves waiting outside.

The only people present were the Jarl who was as usual, slumped unentertained on his throne, the steward, his housecarl and the head of the Silver-Blood family. The sight mildly irritated Corrilian, wondering if the nord was aware of how undisciplined he appeared to the court. He hoped this wasn’t the standard but knew it explained a lot about the Nordic culture, violent and stagnant. 

“I am glad to see you have made it back unscathed Justiciar, despite the absence of my men” he stated. 

“ _ Indeed _ ” Corrilian responded, knowing he would need to sleep soon if he wanted to maintain  _ some _ semblance of civility with these men. 

“I had to visit Falkreath as I was made aware of a traitor in the Dominion residing there in secret. He had been... _ interrogated _ sufficiently in the town but we planned to escort him to the city for documenting before transporting to Solitude and the Embassy. Unfortunately we were ambushed during our return, the prisoner attempted a break and was killed in the process. Unfortunately so were your men and one of my soldiers”.

“Were they Stormcloaks?” the Jarl asked, and noting the shake of Corrilian’s head, continued, 

“Their families will be informed and compensated. Have you found any truth to the rumours of the Afflicted in the Reach?” Corrilian noted concern now creeping into his voice. 

“Unfortunately so Jarl Igmund” he drawled back, “a few cases reported in the town and those affected were forced out, I believe you should take these cases seriously and begin to make preparations”. He bowed half-heartedly and halfway, no one at this court deserved his full respect, and turned to leave before Jarl called after him.

“Well...any other information I could use?” and Corrilian shot him a scathing look of resentment, before replying, 

“Are  _ you _ not Jarl of the Reach? I am fairly certain that is  _ your _ job” and he dismissed himself from the room. 

Corrilian removed his gloves as he began heading towards his new room, already thinking about sinking into those clean sheets, before being made aware of a young, nordic servant scurrying to keep up with his pace. Corrilain slowed himself and waited for him to speak. 

“Begging your pardon sir, but I’m Joric, I’ve been assigned as your personal servant” he spoke so unsure that Corrilian could only assume that he was new and hadn’t been expected to perform this kind of work before. Of course a wretched city like this would be devoid of properly trained servants. Still he would have to vet the boy, despite his hapless appearance, he knew from experience you could not underestimate anyone. The wolves following at his heels clearly unnerved him.

“Are my rooms clean?” Corrilian asked, noticing that he nodded in response. 

“ _ Good _ , I will take a few hours rest in my room, to be disturbed by  _ nobody _ , and then you will bring me some food and I will commence my meetings at midday, is that understood boy?” he said nothing but nodding again. 

Corrilian waited, momentarily, in the hallway and glanced down to  _ her _ doorway before entering his rooms and slamming the door shut in the servant’s face. 

He did not extend manners to servants, but even so, felt sorry for the poor whelp. Corrilian removed his dirtied riding boots at the door, considering their cleaning as another job for the boy, and removed his socks. When he placed his bare feet on the cold stone floor, he let out a breath of comfort: his body burned and ached, he needed rest. Removing his Thalmor robe, Corrilian draped it over the back of the chair at his table and removed his tunic and his belt. He was glad to see that the heath had been lit and beds for his pets laid before it, gesturing to them they were eager to rest themselves upon them. For a moment he crouched beside them and stroked their fur tenderly, glad they were still with him. 

Crossing to his wash basin he saw that he had now been provided with a large mirror, encased in dark wood and he regarded his appearance in the looking glass for a moment. He did not consider himself a  _ vain _ mer, but was significantly proud of the effort he had put into his appearance. The mer that accepted their physicality and remained fragile and lithe disappointed him, Phynaster had put so much work into extending their life as superior beings and they were wasting it. If it was not for their propensity at magicka he was sure they would be driven underground by the Nords, like the snow-elves. He was repulsed by the thought and his face instantly showed it, making him smirk at his own reflection. Unlike his brethren, he was now broader in the shoulders, and combined with his height, made him appear more dominating. From the days of exhortation, the veins in his arms and hands were visible against his skin. It’s golden hue was beginning to return, but the bags under his eyes remained and he could still feel the pumping of his blood. 

Corrilian unravelled his braid, letting his hair hang loose about his face, longer than was considered fashionable amongst the altmer and standard amongst the Thalmor, it hung a few inches past his shoulders. He had been growing it since college, purely to spite his father. Turning his head in the candlelight, Corrilian regarded his new scars. Now joining the ones that adorned the left side of his body - a newer, redder and longer one had been formed from the base of his neck to past his collarbone and there were a few from his navel that dipped below his hip bones, the head height of soldiers. At least there were none on his face, he was thankful for that, these were at least easier to hide. 

As he sank onto his bed, too warm to sink beneath the sheets, he called for his wolves to join him. He did not often let them onto his bed, and they were reluctant to jump up beside him, but he needed their presence and the security they offered if he was going to be able to sleep. Once they settled themselves either side of him, he finally fell into a restless nap.

Only to be awoken an hour or so later by a frantic knock at his door. Corrilian sat up and rolled his eyes, wondering if he would ever have a moment of peace. Pulling on his tunic but not tightening its strings, he answered the door to find his young servant, waiting in the hall. 

“I am  _ so _ sorry to disturb you sir but Agent Estormo has requested your presence for a meeting” the young nord stammered out.  _ So the researches have returned _ , Corrilian thought to himself. 

He was about to chastise the boy for interrupting him, but paused for a moment, informing him to remain where he stood. Closing the door, Corrilian quickly returned to his washbasin and splashed himself in the face before dressing quickly in a fresh hosen and dark tunic. His cloak was too dirty to wear - stained and smelling of woodsmoke, blood and dirt. He decided to dress in his high collared coat instead, pinning his thalmor badge to his side. He was glad he had brought more than one pair of boots with him, but these did not befit  _ Thalmor _ robes: made of dark leather, they reached just short of his knees and were what he wore on long horseback rides and hunting expeditions. 

Rejoining the  _ boy _ in the corridor, Corrilian gestured for him to keep pace and informed him, 

“Go to the kitchens and fetch me some lunch - bread, cheese and some meat, preferably red, but don’t bring any of that pisswater they call  _ mead _ ” he spat, “once my meeting with the Agent is complete, I will be hosting meetings with the students of Winterhold, so inform them, during these meetings I want you to return to my rooms and clean my robes and boots and then return to me for more work” Corrilian paused in the hall just before his office door, seeing the boy still stood there, he responded,

“If that’s understood, then  _ move _ ” the whelp darted off, as if Trinimac himself was dragging him.

As he entered his office, he was not impressed to find Estormo already reclining in the chair before his desk. “I do not appreciate you entering  _ my _ office without permission, Agent” Corrilian drawled, settling himself into his chair before the desk, his fingers steepled. 

Obviously to his annoyance, the younger mer responded, 

“I assumed Corrilian, that you wanted to be informed about expedition into the ruins -”

“ _ Justiciar _ ” Corrilian interrupted with spite.

“Indeed sir…” the younger mer replied, “but I was informed of your mission to Falkreath, which I hope was successfully” Estormo pandered. 

Resting his head on his left hand, Corrilian asked, 

“ _ Who _ informed you…?” he had, after all, left after their expedition began and wanted to to know who divulged this information to him. 

“That young Breton...I still don’t understand what her presence in the court  _ is _ …”

“It is  _ not _ your place to understand” Corrilian spat back, his annoyance clearly annoying the younger Mer. 

“So what happened on your expedition sir?” Estormo enquired, hoping to placate him, not expecting it to irate the Justiciar further. 

Through gritted teeth he responded, 

“I was made aware of someone secretly performing Talos death rites and worship in the city of Falkreath, with a small group of men we apprehended him and secured information from him, he was supposed to be brought back  _ here _ but we were prevented so by bandits” and poured himself a large brandy before sinking back into his chair. 

“Tell me about the expedition into Nchuand-Zel '' Corrilian drawled, “but make it quick, I will be interrogating the students soon and don’t need to hear the same details  _ several _ times”. 

As he sipped his drink, Estormo recalled the events of their descent into the ruins, their attacks by the Falmer and their discoveries. Corrilian feigned interest in it all. 

“It  _ is _ a shame about the Falmer though sir, our own kind  _ corrupted _ like that” Estormo interjected and Corrilian rolled his eyes. 

“It is their own foolishness that they accepted such a bargain..” before dismissing him with a wave of his hand. 

Pausing in the doorway, Estormo asked, 

“I have heard that the Jarl plans on throwing a feast this evening for ours, and  _ your _ , return sir. I am not sure I will be able to withstand anymore of this dull culture” he spat. 

“You will attend this evening,  _ Agent _ , and you will be pleasant to them” Corrilian admonished him, before dismissing him a second time. 

Not long after Estormo left, then the young servant joined him again, this time with a plate full of food. 

“I informed the students about your request sir, should I summon them after you've eaten?” he set the plate full of food on his desk, clearly listening to his request.

“ _ Indeed _ , give me an hour to eat and then summon them, I will see them individually” before dismissing him, Corrilian quickly wrote him a note and handed it to him. 

“Take this to Bothela at the Hag’s Cure and do  _ not _ read it” He would be surprised if the whelp could read, but he nodded in response and dismissed himself. 

Corrilian ate slowly, in peace for an hour, until the boy returned to collect his tray and summoned the first student, he was impressed with his speed. As he waited, fingers steepled, he was joined by the Wintermist twins first,  _ evidently _ inseparable and cautious of him, their jaded perception caused by Nelacar and Estormo, he could only assume. Their information was similar to Estormo’s but with more description of the technology and alchemical ingredients they had found, which they informed him had been given over to Markarth’s court mage for recording, and they informed him that they planned to return to the College after they had completed the Jarl’s task of eradicating the Forsworn camps. 

The young Khajit’s tale was similar, how she had survived an attack and planned to return to Winterhold, but she would not be involved in the camp raid’s, as she was still resting. 

The only difference in Marcurio’s account was that he had had enough of trailing through dwemer ruins on behalf of the College, and once he had assisted the Wintermist twins in their work for the Jarl, he planned on heading to Riften in search of work as a mage for hire. 

As he waited to interview the final student, the dunmeri, he was interrupted by the  _ boy _ again. Remaining in the doorway, he informed him

“I have collected your order from Bothela and left it in your room sir, sent your robes for cleaning and polished your boots, is there anything else you request or can I return to my rooms?”. A look of nervousness was ingrained on his face. 

“Find out where Miss Devereaux is and inform me after I’ve finished interviewing this final student, then you can retire” the young boy nodded quickly before leaving the room, and Corrilian poured himself another drink. 

The dunmeri student swaggered in, and Corrilian gripped the arm of his seat tight. With a gesture of his head, he suggested for him to take his seat. 

“I’m the last one for you to interview aren’t I?” Drulis grinned, his cockiness annoying the Justiciar. “So I’ll spare you another repetition of the events…”. 

Corrilian lent back in his chair, ready to get this ordeal done with as soon as possible. 

“What are your plans now the expedition is over, to return to Winterhold or forge your own journey?”.

The dunmeri smirked and responded,

“Well we of course have to abide by Jarl's request and eradicated whatever those locals  _ are, _ but after that I don’t know, perhaps I’ll stay  _ here _ ” Corrilian did not like the tone in his voice. 

“And why might that be?” he drawled before taking another sip of his drink. 

“Well the old altmer is the official court mage but spends most of his time working in the dwemer ruins with his nephew, who is overlooked, and that pretty young Breton, perhaps  _ I _ could assist”. Despite his training and refinery, Corrilian snapped. 

“Once the camps are eradicated, I expect you to be leaving the city with your  _ friends _ , is that understood?”, the dunmer student clearly picked up on the fact he had touched a nerve. 

“On what grounds?” Drulis tested. 

“I won’t repeat myself again” Corrilian gestured for him to leave. 

Finally alone in his office, Corrilian clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it down on his leg. Drawing a slow, shaky breath he composed himself. He needed rest and whatever potion Bothela had provided him with that would hopefully work. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a knocking at the door, and when he called for them to enter, was greeted by the young nord again. 

“You said to return to you sir when your last meeting was finished”.

Rising from his chair, Corrilian replied,

“ _ Indeed _ ”.

“Well...Miss Devereaux is currently in the Great Hall, as Thonar Silver-Blood has commissioned her for a portrait of his daughter. 

Corrilian thanked him for his information and rewarded him with a few pieces of silver. 

“The Keep pays me sir…” the whelp replied in confusion. 

The Justiciar bent his head slightly, lowering himself to the Nord’s eyeline and simply replied, 

“Any extra piece of information you can provide me with and you will be rewarded”. With no other tasks for him to perform, Corrilian dismissed him for the evening. 

As he headed to the Great Hall, he realised a lot had transpired in the few days he was away, but was impressed that  _ her _ talents were finally being acknowledged. The Nord’s were not known for expanding on their own culture, let alone interacting with others, but could he really say the same about his own. As he crossed the threshold of the room he found her close proximity to  _ him _ , feeling the blood in his veins instantly heat at the sight. 

For a second he lost sight of his Thalmor training, instantly grabbed by anger and jealousy. She was  _ so _ close to him, the charcoal smudge on his tunic a testament to her touch. Clearing his throat he asked,

“I  _ hope _ I’m not interrupting” attempting to maintain a semblance of passivity. When he saw the speed in which  _ she _ stepped away from him, almost throwing herself against the table, he felt reassured. 

“What do we owe the pleasure Justiciar?” the Silver-Blood replied, his tone steeped in resentment. Corrilian was glad his hands were clad in leather, concealing himself as he clenched his fists. 

“I needed a meeting with Miss Devereaux and was informed she was in here, I assume you are both  _ finished _ ” he drawled, hoping to maintain an air of boredom. 

The Silver-Blood gave him a short bow and crossed the distance between them. Stopping before himself he jeered, 

“She’s  _ all _ yours” quiet enough that she did not hear. His temptation of eradicating  _ him _ completely had never been higher. 

As he made a move to leave the room, she called after him, 

“ _ You  _ still have my poem” her voice high-pitched and uneasy. 

Casting a look of scorn over his shoulder at her, the Silver-Blood offered it to Corrilian and he snatched it from his hand. Corrilain’s gaze lingered as he waited to make sure he had left them before casting his gaze quickly over its contents. Realising _what_ it was about, he gestured for her to follow him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be from his point of view too, but I don't think it will be as sfw


	22. Sweet like honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter from Corrilian's perspective in a while....

From the corner of his eye he had seen how she reacted to him reading the poem, not surprising with its contents, and when he asked her to follow after him, he saw her defeated sigh. Stepping aside in the doorway, Corrilian wanted her to walk ahead of him, surprised by his own behaviour, and assumed it was an involuntary act of dominance. As she passed by him he noticed the smell of charcoal, something subtly sweet and the scent of woodsmoke that piqued his interest. She did not need to be told where to go, and he stalked slowly after her, leaving a sizable gap between them, but one that could be shortened in a few of his strides. 

Unlike the other ladies of the Keep, she was rather undressed by their standards, in her plain tunic and kirtle. From his position, he lazily cast his gaze over her from behind, taking in the curls pinned to the top of her head with a few loose ones ghosting the back of her neck, and the palms of her hands smudged with charcoal. Those same hands had left their mark on the Silver-Blood’s chest, but he could not understand  _ why _ that prospect annoyed him so. As he approached the door to his office, he did not even need to signal to his men to open the door, and as she paused for a moment, looking to him for acknowledgement, he gestured for her to step in.

As his soldier’s closed the heavy door behind them, the clang clearly made her jump, he did not know if it was his presence or the impromptu meeting that unsettled her. As Corrilian crossed to his seat and sunk himself into it, he noticed that she remained standing. She was  _ obedient _ and waiting for his word. For a moment he regarded her, refined in her dishevelment, his pulse quickening slightly at the thought of her waiting for  _ him _ . Leaning back in his chair, Corrilian commanded her,

“ _ Sit _ ” and she did as she was told, crossing her hands on her lap trying to not touch anything. In all of his meetings today, they had all regarded him with the same boredom that he maintained for them. But she regarded him almost with apprehension, and something else. Their gaze quickly met for a moment, before she dropped it, he had already noticed she was never willing to maintain it. Her eyes were a similar almond shape to her aunt’s, but a darker shade of brown and  _ large _ , like he was regarding the face of a doe. As much as he had tried to push them out of his mind, he not stopped thinking about them 

Corrilian unfolded the piece of paper and read it again, for a moment he wondered if the poem had been meant for her from Thonar, or perhaps the other way round: But the Silver-Blood would not have handed it over so readily if that was the case, and he doubted he had the mental capacity to create such a thing. As he raised his gaze to her, he noticed she had sunk back further in the chair as he read aloud the first line,

“ _ My lover’s heart is numbing stone, that hides in ice beneath our sight” _ her face flushed pink at his words. It was not his concern who she wrote the poem for, not a part of Thalmor business, and he tried to refrain himself from becoming involved. 

Throwing the paper onto his desk he asked,

“Did  _ you _ write this…? And she nodded sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, smudging her face with charcoal. 

Corrilian steepled his fingers together, figuring out what to ask next, he wanted to compliment her. When she blurted out,

“It’s not for  _ me _ ” and he raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

“Then  _ who _ is it for…” he drawled. Corrilian could see she was thinking intently, perhaps weighing her options and whether she would get into trouble. 

“It’s….it’s for  _ Calcelmo _ actually, I’m helping him…” she did not appear happy at her revelation. 

Leaning onto his arm, Corrilian pried further, 

“And its intended recipient…”. 

Again she paused for a moment, the shimmer of tears appearing in her eyes as she asked, 

“If I tell you, he won’t get into trouble will he?” he was still surprised at  _ who _ she cared for.

Corrilian scoffed in response, “the love lives of the court are of no interest to me, I was just... _ curious _ ”. 

She nodded before sighing resignedly and replying,

“It's for Faleen, my uncle’s housecarl, he’s quite enamoured with her but does not have the time to tell her…” at her words she awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck. 

“And you decided to help him…” Corrilian mused, expecting no response from her. “Your poetry is fairly good for a  _ human _ ” for a moment she appeared shocked, trying to figure if he had complimented her, he was trying to figure out the same thing himself. She smiled slightly, her cheeks flushing pink and mumbled a  _ thanks _ .

He watched her playing with her hands awkwardly before remembering the reason he had looked for her in the first place. 

“There was a reason I wanted to see you  _ Larina '' hearing _ him say her name elicited a strange reaction from her, that caused his own pulse to quicken for a moment. She remained silent.

“And your intimacy with the Silver-Blood has further encouraged my idea”. She looked aghast at his words and stammered out, 

“It isn’t what it looks like…” her nervousness entertained him, and he remained silent, allowing her to stumble through her words. “I was commissioned by Thonar to paint a portrait of his daughter and will be doing one of Adara Silver-Smith too….” her voice trailed off noticing the smirk on his face. 

“In all honesty….the man  _ repulses _ me” the sincerity in her words caused him to clench his jaw, wondering how personal the nord had really gotten. 

Leaning forward, his arm resting on the desk, Corrilian seized the opportunity and stated, 

“The Silver-Blood’s inclination towards you has been  _ noted _ …. And I think that is the perfect time to take advantage of it”. She paled at his words and Corrilian felt a tug of guilt in the pit of his stomach, he did not particularly want to put her in this position. 

“What are you suggesting?” she asked, her gazed remaining fixed on the poem on his desk. Corrilian rose from his chair and gathered two fine glasses, filling them both with a generous amount of brandy before returning to his seat and sliding one across the desk to her. She accepted it without another word, tentative taking a sip of it. It’s harshness still made her reel and he could not hide the smirk that it caused him. 

Thinking for a moment, Corrilian finally responded, looking into the bottom of his glass,

“Take  _ advantage _ of it…” uttering his own words through clenched teeth, “Thonar is a useful asset but he won’t reveal anything to me... but to  _ you _ ”.

She looked disgusted at his words, taking a large sip of the brandy, she finally raised her gaze,

“Why Thonar….and dare I ask  _ what _ means you want me to achieve this information?”. She was a clever girl, but he would avoid putting her in that position as far as possible. 

Corrilian remembered that he had promised not to lie to her, but remembering his position, knew she did not need to know the full truth: he  _ hated _ how she made him forget who he was. 

“I visited Falkreath because I was made aware of a Dominion traitor residing there, under torture he informed me of a there being a stormcloak spy within the city walls, I want to find them and eradicate them”. Corrilian took another sip of his brandy, watching her as she thought on her words.

“And if I say  _ no _ ” she asked, her eyes shooting him a brief look of defiance, there was a fire that secretly burned inside her. The court was clearly too foolish to see it, and he wondered for how long they would underestimate her. 

“You won’t” Corrilian drawled back, “ignoring the information I already have on you, thievery in an attempt to sneak into the ruins and fraternising with servants, you have no real power in this court, your aunt has seen to that. And I am sure the Silver-Blood will get  _ bolder _ in his attempts” he was glad his other hand rested on his knee, she would not have seen him instantly clench it at the thought.

“Of course you will be  _ rewarded _ for your assistance to the Dominion”.

She scoffed at his words and regarded him with an uneasy look, as if she was considering what her punishment would be. 

“I don’t need money” she spat back, “where or what can I spend it on? Wearing dresses whilst I flaunt about the Keep pretending to be interested in the games  _ they _ play” her honesty was withering and he wondered if she voiced those thoughts to anyone else. 

“Get me out of here” she shot him a brief, pleading look, almost shocked by her own words. Corrilian set down his glass and steepled his fingers,

“Explain what you mean…” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“My payment can be that you find me a reason to get out of  _ this _ city, to the College in Winterhold or perhaps Solitude, I want to leave”, Corrilian narrowed his eyes at her words, hoping that his true reaction had not been mirrored on his face: a few decades ago he had said the same thing. 

“I can’t make any promises but I will see what I can do”, she nodded at his response, looking somewhat defeated, foolishly she attempted to finish her drink in one gulp, struggling to hide her coughs as it burnt her throat. 

For a moment Corrilian hesitated, somewhat reluctant in allowing her to leave without a downpayment. Rising from his chair he crossed the room to his bookshelf, feeling her gaze upon him. And ran his finger across their spines, before stopping at the one he was looking for. 

Looking over his shoulder at her, he asked,

“You don’t speak altmeris do you?” and saw her shake her head: he would have been surprised if she did, for a second he wondered if she would have been interested to learn. 

Removing the book from the shelf, he brought it back to his desk and explained, 

“Altmer poetry, the scribblings found in the rest of Tamriel really can’t compare” he drawled, “perhaps there would be a few lines in here that Calcelmo himself would appreciate”, but of course she could not read the language, did he really think that he would translate some for  _ her _ . 

“I didn’t think you were a mer interested in  _ poetry _ ” he heard her scoff, and as he raised her gaze to her, she instantly reddened and stammered out an apology. 

“I’m  _ sorry _ , I don’t know what I meant by that...I just” but he stopped her with a wave of his hand, entertained again by her unease. 

“I understand what you meant, I was only raised with an interest in it because of my mother” he reassured her with a smirk, noticing that his personal comment had caused her to smile.

Finishing the last dregs of his brandy, Corrilian rose for from his seat and gestured for her to follow him, opening the door for her as he left: as she thanked him and trailed after, he informed her that he was planning on return to his room if she would like to be accompanied. 

She paused for a moment, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before replying,

“ _ Actually _ , I need to return to the Great Hall, I left my work behind and a servant might accidentally clean it away before tonight”.

Corrilian replied with a curt, “ _ of course _ ” before continuing ahead.

As she kept step with him, she asked, 

“You took the wolves with you, did they return alright, I have to admit I have missed Potema” noticing the genuine concern in her voice, he slowed his step and answered, 

“A little bruised but otherwise alright” from the corner of his eye he noticed that she had smiled. 

Before she left to head into the inner sanctum and towards the Great Hall, she bobbed him a quick curtsy and stated,

“Give me a night to think about it and I will inform you tomorrow”. 

Corrilian nodded at her sensible choice before answering with a brief bow, watching as she rushed off. 

Returning to his own rooms, glad that he had not bumped into any of the students now that they were housed in this hall. Once he had closed the door to his room, Corrilian lent against its cold metal and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was already exhausted but knew he had no time for a quick rest. Removing his boots and his jacket, Corrilian unbuttoned his tunic, leaving it flowing open, before crouching on the floor beside his sleeping wolves. They stirred at his touch and he comforted them, before murmuring,

“You were  _ missed _ girls”. 

Rising to his feet, Corrilian noticed that there was a large red, glass bottle situated in the middle of his table, evidently from the Hag’s Cure, he hoped Bothela had been as discreet as she had promised. Knowing what he needed to do, Corrilian retrieved a small wooden cup and filled it to the brim: its brown, viscous contents oozed out, causing his face to shrivel in disgust. He knew better than to drink it in small sips, instead drinking it as quickly as possible, trying to ignore its texture and his own gags. Corrilian chased it with a large mouthful of brandy that caused his chest to burn. Heading towards his basin, he splashed the cold water in his face and freshened himself before re-dressing for the evening meal, frustrated that the Jarl had ordered an impromptu feast. He dressed in a fresh, black tunic and his high collared jacket - his boots had not been cleaned, something he would chastise the boy about in the morning, but he pulled on his riding boots again. Before leaving for the dinning hall, Corrilian a few of the silver rings that had adorned his right hand, and his new silver thumb ring to his left thumb and added the two small rings that had adorned his ear. All of which had been left behind in his journey. 

When he arrived in the hall he found the Jarl already seated, conversing with the steward and his wife, excited about the work on the bathing house that was beginning to be started: the news was a slight reassurance to him. Until he realised he would be situated between the Silver-Blood and Estormo, the former evidently annoyed at his presence and the latter eager to deafen him with idle chatter. Sinking into his seat, Corrilian summoned the servant to fetch him _proper_ wine, he had just begun to zone out of focus when he observed Thonar sitting upright, looking towards the entrance. Corrilian too, turned his head, and saw Larina stood there, evidently uncomfortable at their reaction. Rather than wearing one of those plain dresses she normally wore in the evening, she looked _splendid_. Her dress hung off her shoulders, exposing her unblemished and slightly too pale skin, the sleeves billowing out slightly before her ending at her elbows. It cinched at her waist before filling out to the floor, the paleness of her skin emphaising the dress, the colour of sea foam and decorated with silver embroidery. Around her neck was a tightly worn silver carcinet that when she approached, revealed to be adorned with several, small moonstones and her hair - usually pinned haphazardly to the top of her head, now fell in waves around her face. She had clearly made an effort tonight, outdressing the court, to clear annoyance of her aunt. Not that she would have ever chosen something like this, its arrangement too fine for a Nordic court, but it was the colour that was striking. Its beauty inflicting a strange sense of homesickness in him. 

When she slid into her seat next to the Silver-Blood, Corrilian felt his stomach turn, at the look of unease upon her face. But when she saw that Calcelmo would be seated beside her, he noted it shifted to happiness. Despite the fact she was human, she evidently preferred the company of cultured folk. Once the students and the Silver-Smith family joined them, the feast finally began. 

Adding more than his usual amount of beef to his plate, Corrilian feigned interest when Estormo began to engage him in conversation. 

“After living off of measly rations for the last few weeks I have to say the Jarl’s generosity is certainly welcome” despite his haplessness he maintained the manners befitting his rank, Corrilian was glad to see. 

From the corner of his eye, Corrilian watched the Silver-Blood as he attempted conversation with  _ her _ , watching as she tried her best to ignore him to converse with Calcelmo instead. He wondered if it was really just of him to inflict the kind of cruelty of forcing her to spend time with that de’nt, but he needed answers. 

Once the court had gorged themselves to near sickness, the servants began to clear the plates and the court headed towards the Great Hall: despite his few tours of Skyrim, it still disgusted Corrilian to see how the Nords overindulged themselves. 

He watched as Larina ignored her aunt’s gesturing for her to join her table, sitting with the students instead, evidently eager to hear about his adventure: his only disappointment was the proximity of the dunmer student, who in sensing his gaze shot him a sly wink. With Calcelmo and Aicantar’s presence at the table, Corrilian knew he could join them without causing tension until he was unfortunately corralled by Estormo again. 

“I have to say Justiciar” he stated, over-eagerly, “it is somewhat refreshing to have an  _ educated _ mer to converse with again, I am sure you can agree?”.

Corrilian responded with a curt, “ _ indeed _ ”, biting the inside of his cheek.

From the corner of his eye Corrilian watched as the dunmeri student whispered something into her ear causing her laugh, its effect scrunching her eyes. He had not seen her laugh like that before. Despite the distance, he tried to hone his ears, interested in what their conversations held, until he was bothered by Estormo asking an inane question. 

“ and of course you can see sir that I am only here on  _ Nelacar’s _ orders, when they I would be doing fieldwork I hadn’t expected  _ this _ ”, Corrilian had already missed half of his conversation and pretended to acknowledge what he was saying. 

“I was hoping this time I could begin my training as a Justiciar, perhaps with a good word from you cerum?” he asked.

Corrilian scoffed back, “what makes _you_ think you’ll be a Justiciar?” entertained by his lack of perception.

“Well Solitude, Winterhold and Markarth are the only cities in Skyrim that maintain a constant Thalmor presence perhaps I could -”

“Have you ever wondered  _ why _ we aren’t permanently in the other cities, Estormo?” Corrilain interrupted. 

“Well  _ no _ sir but…”. 

“These cities are either suspicious of outsiders and mages, outright support the Stormcloaks or, in the  _ strange _ case of Whiterun, stubbornly support the Empire but refuse to station a garrison there. If  _ you _ would like to be the new Justiciar appointed to Windhelm Estormo, please… be my guest” Corrilian drawled before heading to their table. 

There were no seats available, so Corrilian simply hovered behind Aicantar, suppressing his eyes from rolling as Estormo joined him at his side. Ignoring him, Corrilian turned to Calcelmo and asked,

“I hear that preparations are being made for the bathhouse, when do you think the work will begin?”.

“Soon I should hope, once the students return from eradicating the bandit camps perhaps then, once the roads are safer to bring in more expensive items”, the older mer responded. He had forgotten the Jarl’s request, and for a moment looked over them all, wondering if  _ any _ of them would make it back alive, there was certainly  _ one  _ he would not miss. 

His gaze drifted to Larina again, it was the happiest he had seen her since he had arrived, her curiosity being indulged by the students around the table, she was currently engaged in a conversation with the Khajiit girl when her gaze rose up to his own. She flashed him a quick smile and Corrilian returned hers with a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

Several times the Jarl and his men gestured for him to join them at their table, they only ever played cards and cheated terribly at it. Corrilian could not think of a worser fate. Tonight was louder than usual, and although he thought the Keep’s new bard’s skills were subpar he would much prefer to listen to the gentle sound of lute - even if it wasn’t played particularly well. As Estormo continued to pester Calcelmo with irate questions, all of which the older mer politely obliged, Corrilian could feel the beginning stages of a headache. Mixed in with his annoyance was a slight feeling of jealousy, by Auriel how did they let this  _ fool _ within their walls. But quickly reminded himself of his own promise, he would not find himself restricted by foolish, isolated mages again. Turning his head away from them, he closed his eyes and pressed the cold glass of his drink against his forehead. 

A gentle, cold hand on his wrist pulled him out of his thoughts, opening his eyes he saw Larina standing before him, head tilted and a look of concern on her face. 

“Are you alright  _ jus- _ ...  _ Corrilian _ ?” the way she said his name clearly had a strange effect on her, and himself. 

Lowering the glass he replied,

“Yes… just a headache most likely from exhaustion, I think I might retire for the evening” and he swallowed the last dregs of his brandy before placing his glass down on the table. 

As he turned back round he saw she was still regarding him with concern, Corrilian raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

“Well...me and Mina are planning on retiring too, perhaps we could accompany you back… unless you would prefer some solitude?”, Corrilian shook his head.

He watched as she briefly left his side to inform her aunt that she was leaving, the act seemed so  _ strange _ to him, that she constantly sought her permission to retire. Why did she not just leave when she wanted to? The woman evidently installed a sense of fear and control in the girl from the moment she arrived, a skill most young inquisitors would be jealous of. 

When she finally returned to him, the Khajiit girl rose from her seat, linking arms with her and headed to the door. Corrilian trailed behind, steadily at a distance. He watched the way her dress moved in the dwemer light, as if she had personified the sea. But his proximity to her was starting to turn his thoughts somewhat impudent. 

“I have thought about what you said Larina and I think I will accept” the girl purred and flashed her a smile. 

“ _ Really? _ Oh that’s  _ fantastic _ Mina, I promise I won’t make you sit for too long, I’ll even make two sketches one for yourself” Larina replied, clearly excited, was she planning on drawing  _ everyone _ in the Keep? As they continued their conversation, Corrilian kept his pace slow, allowing them their distance and refraining from joining them: not that they made any involvement to include him, he sensed his presence made the Khajiit girl uncomfortable. 

He lingered at his door as Larina bid the girl goodnight, and lingered for a moment too, Corrilian sensed she had something to ask. As she finally turned to face him, he noticed her slow movements, the look upon her face somewhat dazed: the effects of the brandy were clearly starting to catch up. For a moment, his mind dangerously strayed, thinking of how  _ he _ could cause that expression. 

“ _ Corrilian _ ?” she asked, his name in her mouth sounding as sweet as honey. “Will you give me the night to decide and I will meet with you tomorrow with my answer?” evidently still anxious about her task. Usually he expected an answer immediately, usually forced by a few movements of his hand, yet he indulged her. 

“ _ Yes _ …. come to me at midday with your answer” he murmured, narrowing his gaze. She nodded in response before bidding him a good night and heading into her room, leaving him stood in the hallway. 

For a moment Corrilian rested his head against the cool metal before opening the heavy door and stepping into his room. The wolves lazily raised their heads to acknowledge his return before returning to their sleep, the poor girls were exhausted from the last few days. He removed his cloak and boots at the door, enjoying the cold sensation of the stone against his feet and poured himself another glass of brandy before stripping out of his clothes, draping them over a stone chair. The lit fire made his new room warm enough to sleep how he preferred, naked. 

Bringing his glass with him to bed, Corrilian also brought a book from his table, but after a gazing over a few lines he realised he was too distracted to continue. He had tried to push the thoughts from his mind but could not overcome them: restless with a sense of arousal that he had not felt in many years. The Thalmor turned a blind eye to whatever distractions the younger officers got up to in their spare time, but were less forgiving of that behaviour being exhibited in their elders. He had already gotten into trouble over his past relations, or rather the nature of them. He half knew that it caused his transfer here, a place with supposedly _less_ distractions: but tonight he would allow himself to succumb, in an attempt to drive her from his mind, disgusted that a human had brought this out in him, but even more aroused at the thought of her. 

Instinctively he felt his hand snake down his waistline, his hand - cooled by his glass - found himself already hard and sighed slightly at the coolness of his touch. As he slowly began to move his hand, his mind fixated on her carcinet: tight around her throat, emphasising its slenderness, imagining his own hand there, grip tightening and her mouth slightly open. How he would slide his thumb into her open mouth and remind her she was a good girl. Corrilian’s pace quickened, and he moved his other arm behind his head to rest. Tightening his grip, he thought of her bent over his desk and receiving her reward for her hard work;  _ he’d show her what fucking a superior bred mer felt like _ . His breath caught in his throat, feeling himself harden even more in his grip. The sound of her honeyed voice  _ begging _ him, calling his name. How he’d leave his mark on her and show the court  _ who _ she belonged to, how no one could touch her but him. Corrilian’s free hand clenched at his pillow, knowing he was close, and allowed his imagination to run wild until he jerked into his climax. 

For a second he allowed himself to catch his breath before quickly fetching a cloth to clean up the mess he had made: he felt like a foolish young mer again, acting on impulse and he hoped it was a leftover of increased testosterone after the last few days. But his thoughts from before returned to him, and he began to stir again. With a groan he sunk back onto his bed and finished his glass in one gulp. Even if his position was different he wondered if he dared to pursue her, worried about how easily he could  _ break _ her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing a bit of smut and I'm sorry its taken so long and is so short ;w;   
> the next time I add some, it will be a little more detailed ;)


	23. A Pretty Face

Larina awoke the following morning, from the clanging at her bedroom door, her head pounded as she pulled herself into a sitting position. For a moment she had to pause, as the room swayed momentarily, a headache beginning to kick in. So  _ this _ was the effect of drinking too much, and she wondered how Daciana had managed to endure it. She had realised how undressed she was when she answered the door, the coolness of the hall causing the hairs on her arms to rise: but luckily whoever had brought her her breakfast tray had left it by her door and already gone. Larina set it down on her stone table and ignored it, dragging herself back to bed and pulled her covers over her head. Just a few more moments of rest and she’d drag herself back out, wash and dress. Not realising the grips of sleep already had her. 

After another few restless hours she awoke with a start, her head still pounding. Despite the late night she knew she still had duties she had to continue with, everybody else seemed to manage with continuing with their day and knew she had to do so with hers. Checking her timepiece she realised it was getting close to midday. She had wasted most of her morning sleeping and would not be able to assist Calcelmo, she wondered if he was concerned about the absence of her presence. If Daciana had been here, Larina briefly shuddered at the thought, she’d tell her she owed  _ nothing _ to the court mage. But still she felt guilty about leaving him in the lurch. He wasn’t the only person with whom she had business with today. She vaguely remembered informing the Justiciar she would give him his answer today and  _ still _ had her afternoon meeting with the Silver-Blood’s, she still did not know what she was going to say to him. Whatever she said would change the interaction she had with Thonar. But the sooner she got his portrait over the better, she was glad that Mina-diir had agreed to sit for her too and Larina was beginning to enjoy devoting some of her time to portraits. 

For a second she rubbed her temple with her hand before dragging her heavy body out of bed. Draped over the back of her chair was the dress from the night before, and she carefully hung it back up in her wardrobe. For a considerable amount of time the night before she had ummed and ah-ed about whether to wear it, holding it against her figure in the looking glass. But she was tired of being governed by Daciana and for one evening she wanted to feel pretty. Her dress made her feel somewhat powerful and she liked the fact it had caused them all to double-take when they saw her. Daciana said nothing but she wondered if her aunt might comment today, Larina knew it was best to avoid her as far as possible. 

Of course she had tried to keep Thonar at arm’s length, the presence of the students somewhat helped with that. She was jealous of them returning to Winterhold after their work here was done, she  _ too _ had hopes of going there once, to fulfil her father’s aspirations of her. But she had not practiced magick in a very long time, she was sure they would laugh her off the grounds in mere moments at her incapability. 

Still Drulis thought she could hold her ground, he was  _ rather _ kind to her after all. With the exception of Thonar and his sleaziness, no one had paid her the same kind of attention that Drulis had. She remembered his comments from the night before, of how she reminded him of the hours of night before sunset. She had hoped the Justiciar might have said something too, he had cast his gaze to her quite a few times last night, she had seen him out of the corner of her eye. But perhaps she was being vain, he was probably wondering what her answer was. She had hoped too that he might have said something in their brief moment alone in the hall, but would she have remembered? The effects of all that brandy had kicked in and the rest of her clothes still remained strewn across the room. 

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Larina considered what the Justiciar had asked of her yesterday. Using Thonar’s affections, if you could call them that, to his advantage and find out who the Talos worshipper was in the city. But was Thonar really foolish to be involved in Talos worship, under the eye of the Legate and a Thalmor Justiciar, and especially after her uncle had pardoned his previous treason. She wasn’t stupid, although the court sometimes treated her so, she knew the threat was more than Talos worship. Most Nords either ignored the decree and practiced in secret or did not care enough to worship the ninth divine, focusing on the other gods. Her people had never worshipped him in the first place, it was of no concern to her. But the Talos worshippers that were caught? Well they were usually involved with the Stormcloaks as well, and Larina did not want to see their return to the city. Perhaps it was the blood in her veins, or the fact the Markarth incident prejudiced her view, but she did  _ not _ want to see the Stormcloaks stepping foot in the city. Breton's were mistreated here as it was, she could not imagine how worse it would get. Not that  _ she _ would see the effect. 

Her own privilege made her feel uncomfortable, she felt like a stranger at the court, with the exception of Thonar’s unwanted advances, but her treatment was considerably better than the rest of Markarth. Still she worried about those who lived outside the walls, displaced by the Forsworn, and in some way she worried for them too. They wanted to  _ survive _ , and were desperately trying to escape the Afflicted. Perhaps she was naive in thinking that her uncle could extend an olive branch and negotiate with them, preventing more blood from being spilled in the Reach. 

A part of her had come to accept being encaged in the city, with its strange, limited charm. But the prospect of being able to leave enticed her more. Perhaps she should agree to the Justiciar’s terms in return of being able to join the college. She had practiced magick before, although it was lost to her now she hoped that with enough training she could pick it up again. 

But she did not like the prospect of retrieving that culpability through whatever means possible; perhaps that was something she could negotiate with the Justicar. The thought of Thonar’s hands on her body made her physically shudder. 

Finally she rose, and splashed some fresh water in her face, looking somewhat tired from the night before. She pulled her bedraggled hair onto the top of her head, too lazy to comb through it and tied it in place. Dressing in a clean tunic and her kirtle, Larina attached her timepiece at her waist and pulled on her familiar pair of leather boots. 

. Larina slung her satchel over her shoulder, carrying her easel in the other hand, to save having to return to her room after her meeting with the Justiciar, and headed to the laboratory to quickly see Calcelmo. 

She was surprised to find him alone in the laboratory, tinkering away at another one of the time-pieces, he hadn’t even heard her come in. 

“Morning Calcelmo…” she called over to him, not wanting to shout but not wanting to startle him with her presence and affect his work.

“If you could call it that..” he looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry...it was quite a late night last night”, she was still tired and hoped that this evening would be a quieter one, but knowing the court that wasn’t likely. 

“Indeed it was” Calcelmo wiped his hands clean of dwemer oil and pulled up a wooden stool for her to sit on, “the rest of the  _ revellers  _ did not return to their rooms until the early hours. Resting her satchel on the desk, Larina climbed up and asked, 

“Goodness, did I miss anything good?”.

Calcelmo shook his head before filling a pot with water and setting it on his alchemy table to boil. 

“Well your aunt was certainly in  _ jovial _ spirits, the poor bard was really made to work, but they danced for a while until the Jarl refused to dance with his wife any longer and she stormed off”. Larina was glad she had missed it, she wasn’t much of a dancer and she knew she would have been embarrassed between her own clumsiness and her aunt’s scathing comments. 

“Even Aicantar danced,” Calcelmo continued, clearly itching to tell her. Larina raised her eyebrow urging him to continue. 

“Obviously he has his uncle’s two left feet'' the older Mer joked, “but that pretty Nord did spend a lot of time teaching him, he was pretty flustered when I told him he did well”. 

Larina grinned, “I suspected that there might be something there… but what about you Calcelmo? Was Faleen there, you could have taken that opportunity to ask her….”.

Calcelmo abruptly rose from his seat, the steam rising from the pot a perfect opportunity to escape. Without her assistance Larina knew he would never tell Faleen his feelings, just watching her from afar. 

“Would you like a cup of black tea?” Calcelmo asked over his shoulder. He had already poured himself one and the aroma was starting to drift over to her, she reached for the timepiece attached to her waist to see if she had time. 

She had said midday but that didn’t mean she had to be perfectly on time, and nodded, there was still almost a full hour until she had to see him. 

The smell of its smokiness was irresistible and Larina held the warm cup between her hands and felt secure. She felt foolish at the idea but she hoped in some way, at a subtle level, that Calcelmo understood that she considered him family, and felt safe around him. 

Blowing over the tea before she took a sip, Larina asked,

“You said this tea reminded you of home, I don’t understand…” she knew his home was somewhere in the Summerset Isle but wasn’t sure  _ where _ , disappointed that she had never really asked him. But then again, he hadn’t really asked her much about her past. Of course he knew about her father’s work as a mage and her basic handling of botanicals that had come from her upbringing, but she made sure to leave out the cruel slaughtering of her parents. 

Calcelmo rejoined her at the table, warming his hands on his tea and replied, 

“These little comforts, fine wine,  _ dates _ , smokey tea, they are hard to come by in Skyrim, but back home it was easy”. He looked pensive for a moment before continuing, 

“Not all of my people look down on the rest of Tamriel Larina...I hope you understand that” Larina nodded, confused at the direction the conversation suddenly took. 

“Unfortunately those with the most power believe otherwise, even then I don’t believe all of them do, but to go against the  _ Thalmor _ ? Practically a death wish” he sighed and she wondered why he was saying all of this. 

“Our culture is becoming...stagnant for lack of a better term, we believe we’ve reached the height of civility and refuse to continue ahead. Of course adding the best aspects of other cultures is certainly not frowned upon, tea, dates, even other substances have found their popularity there”. 

“Do you miss it?” Larina asked, sincerely curious about his past. 

“Well it's certainly  _ warmer _ than here” the older Mer joked but continued, “But I am in no rush to leave Skyrim, the city here fascinates me enough”. Larina could not understand it, how anyone could really decide to stay in Markarth when there were better places in Skyrim, let alone Tamriel. But what did she really know? Her only source of information was snippets of conversation from the servants or at the court. 

Returning the inquisition, Calcelmo asked, 

“What about you Larina, do you still think of home?”. 

_ Home _ , a tiny village in High Rock, where the local villagers were appreciative of her father’s work, where the locals would have had their mind blown at the sight of dwemer technology.

Larina took a few sips of her tea before replying,

“It's strange really, I don’t find myself thinking of it often anymore, save when I miss walking outside. It was quite a damp place, great for growing mushrooms and ingredients, my father used to let me walk around barefoot so long as my mother didn’t catch me. It was quite a shock to come here after, to not feel the rain on my skin properly. My aunt didn’t exactly have much patience in teaching me the ways of the court but she did at least appreciate my quickness in learning”. Larina felt guilty that she had not thought of home often anymore. 

“Do you think you would return one day?” the older mer asked, and Larina simply shook her head. 

“For what? I am sure the village has been rebuilt since the attack but my only family that I knew of are my grandmother, who is most likely dead, and my brother who I haven’t heard in years. Even if I could find him I know he would never return to Rockreath.” He had joined the legion to escape for that reason. For a few months after her father’s death she had dreamt that he would come to Markarth to save her and together they would return to look after the family farm. 

As if sensing her unease, Calcelmo changed the subject, to implicate himself. 

“Have you made progress on my poem?” he smiled at her, feigning interest. 

Larina grinned, 

“I have one stanza so far but that is certainly not enough to win your love’s heart!” she almost wanted to tell him about her meeting with the Justiciar, how he had given her the book to help. It was a strange moment of familiarity between them, brushed aside instantaneously: in those moments it was hard to imagine him as a cruel inquisitor. 

But that was the truth about him.

Finishing her tea, Larina checked the time and realised she really needed to head off. Climbing down from her seat, Larina thanked him and apologized that she could not spend anymore time with him today. 

When she informed him of where she was heading, Calcelmo paused for a moment before brushed her off with a wave of his hand, 

“Sometimes you need a day off Larina, but there is something I want to quickly talk about” his concern causing her to pause momentarily where she stood. 

“Just be careful around  _ him _ my dear, I have had my fair share of meetings with the Thalmor over my many years and he seems to be a lot less  _ stable _ than the rest of them”. Calcelmo’s warning unnerved her but she continued ahead all the same.

Despite the fact the steam of the laboratory always managed to wilden her curls, its warmth was pleasant and the difference in temperature once stepping into the inner sanctum was jarring. She drew her shawl around herself for warmth before heading towards the Justiciar’s office. One of the soldiers rapped on the door and as she waited in silence to be admitted, she drew in a shaky breath. 

He did not even look up as she entered the room, too focused on the paperwork that lay before him. 

“ _ Sit _ ” Larina paused for a moment before doing as she was told and slid into the seat, setting her satchel at her feet. 

As he finished off making notes she watched as the bridge of his nose crinkled and he lay down his quill. 

Giving her a strange look he asked, 

“Is that shay ‘aswad I can smell?” Larina nodded, wondering if the smokey smell lingered on her or if his sense of smell was incredibly fine. 

“I assume Calcelmo has been sharing the tea that I gave him with you? Did you like it?” Larina nodded in response, hesitantly replying. 

“Surprisingly so actually, just as much as the dates that have suddenly  _ disappeared _ ...” she had hoped it had come across as a joke but the Justiciar regarded her with a strange look she could not place. 

“I’m glad at least there is  _ one _ human in this godforsaken place with an actual sense of  _ taste _ ” he drawled, before closing the journal before him. 

For a moment it looked like he was deep in contemplation, his brow furrowed. As much as she tried to ignore it, his features were beautifully disorientating. Everyone else in the Keep considered him a threat, she should too and remember the warning that Calcelmo gave her, but those little moments of kindness sent her careening down a different path. 

“I assume that the reason you are now here is because you have come to a decision?” his tone was serious and he shifted back into his seat regarding her. 

Larina nodded, opening her mouth to speak before she was interrupted. 

“I  _ would _ like to point out that I rarely give people as much time as I have given you to come to a decision….would you like another drink?” above all things at least she could say he was polite. 

She shook her head, 

“I  _ do _ appreciate the time you have given me, but first….I’d like to negotiate” she had not planned on her words stammering out, not helped by the smirk on his face. 

“ _ Negotiate…. _ ”

Larina nodded, hoping that now in some way she would sound articulate and intelligent. 

“You suspect Thonar Silver-Blood is involved in a Talos conspiracy in the city here… have you been made aware about his previous…. _ discretion _ ”. By the look on his face she knew he understood, but gestured for her to continue nonetheless. 

“A mercenary for hire accidentally got mixed up in a scandal here two years ago, exposed Thonar and his involvement with Madanach, the leader of the Forsworn: they called him the  _ king in rags _ you know, when he was captured he was imprisoned in Cidhna Mina, that the Silver-Blood’s own, somehow in there Thonar got to him, took advantage of his power to obtain more control over the city, when he was caught he managed to pay his way off the execution block but gods know what would have happened if he had succeeded”. The Justiciar watched patiently, still not saying a word. 

“ _ You _ clearly still think he’s a threat and want to use  _ me _ to get the truth out of him…” Corrilian nodded and for a brief moment Larina noticided something flash behind his eyes. 

“If it means getting rid of him…. Then I agree. But I refuse to debase myself for information...is that alright?” she had sounded so confident at first and faltered at the last second.

The Justiciar rose from his chair with a sigh, crossing to his tiny window and peered out. 

“Why they included this bloody thing is beyond me, the view is barely worth it. Have you become accustomed to it?”. His question was so out of the blue and confused her. 

  
  


“....I guess so, you learn quickly to adapt in order to survive in the Reach”, surprised at the coldness in her words. 

The Justiciar returned to stand behind his chair, draping himself over the top of it. 

“I accept your conditions...I doubt anyone would involve themselves in that kind of tryst, no matter how many septims we paid” Larina caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth and asked,

“Was that a  _ joke _ Justiciar?”. He flashed her a strange look before returning to his chair and she dared to continue, 

“I know you are here on official Thalmor business, but is there  _ nothing _ in Markarth that could interest you? The Reach does have a unique beauty...perhaps when things are safer we’ll all be free to explore it more”. 

“I guess I could say I have gained a new interest in stones…” that twitch spread further and Larina could not hide her smile, evidently his sense of humour was dry. 

“In all sincerity...Corillian...I am really not sure how  _ you _ , or Calcelmo and Aicantar for that matter, endure it when you’ve lived in places far better than here, you can understand perhaps why I want to leave” she could not help her forlornness, looking up at him she noticed that he had shifted in his seat, his eyes narrowed. 

“Ah yes…” he replied, “ the matter of your payment. You wish to leave the city but have you really considered where you would go? You don’t want your payment in coins, but how would you establish yourself in Solitude, or join the College when you have no schooling in magick or any form of connections?” Larina wondered if he had intended his words to sound so blunt. 

Really she had not thought of it at all. 

Gripping the arms of her chair, she replied, 

“The only other way I am getting out of the city is through  _ marriage _ , probably of my aunt’s choice Corrilian so you can only imagine how  _ that _ would go.”. He said nothing but simply nodded. 

She could not help the tears quickly pricking at her eyes and quickly brushed them away, 

“I need  _ some _ way of getting out of here, I’ll go mad if I don’t, please just help me any way you can”. As she looked up the expression on his face changed, the only way she could explain it was  _ pained _ . 

“I will find... _ something _ ” the Justiciar replied, his mouth open as if he was going to say something else. For a moment he noted something down before addressing her again. 

“For every piece of information you find that is important, either find me for a meeting or write it in a note and supply it to me”.  _ Awfully obvious _ , Larina thought. 

An idea blazed at the front of her mind and she dared to reveal it, hoping it would not be rejected,

“Actually Corrilian….I think I have a better way” she had become more comfortable in saying his name now, seeing his raised eyebrow, she continued, 

“Between our rooms in a room that has been left by the servants, not good enough to be a bedroom but too good to be a storage room. So far I have managed to convince those that I needed, to allow me to renovate into a retiring room on that floor. The balcony is bigger on my own, perfect for sketching. Perhaps meeting there in the evenings, would be less obvious than me being seen at your office frequently?”. 

He lent back in his chair, fingers steepling, 

No answer was a good answer, she assumed. 

“Of course I’m planning on decorating it and making it more pleasant” Larina mused, “I was hoping to move some of my sketching things in there, my room isn’t exactly ideal for leaving them lying around”. Larina thought of the leftover tapestries and rugs from the bathing room’s renovation, how she would grow plants too, an extra space of sanctuary. 

“Perhaps I could move my alchemy table there as well, rather in that cramped offshoot they call a room” Corrilian had rested his head on his arm and watched her thoughtfully. 

Larina raised an eyebrow before daring to ask, 

“But I have heard that yours is one of the larger rooms, surely you have enough room to... _ oh _ ” she was embarrassed by being so vocally foolish: if he happened to be using his table whilst she was in there sketching it would be more accepted as a coincidence rather than a deliberate plan. 

  
  


“I’m glad you now understand, unless you have any other questions about your assignment you’re free to go” he reached into the desk beside him and removed a dossier. 

As she rose from her seat, Larina asked, 

“I’m not sure really where to begin with  _ Thonar _ ….” her hand rested against the back of her chair. 

With narrow eyes, Corrilian looked up and replied, 

“The Silver-Blood is clearly susceptible to flattery and a pretty face, I am sure you can think of something” before returning to his work. 

Larina took that as a cue to leave: she had attempted to close the heavy dwemer door behind her but was assisted by the Thalmor soldiers, Larina thanked them but received no response in return. Instead of returning to her room to kill time before Thonar arrived, Larina decided to head straight to the Great Hall and prepare the room for their arrival, giving herself a few moments of peace to consider her meeting and perhaps create a plan. She certainly wasn’t ready for this, especially since the Justiciar’s words echoed around her mind. 

_ A Pretty Face _ . 

That’s what he called her, she hoped it was a veiled compliment but she couldn’t be too sure. She had to agree with Thonar on one thing, he certainly was a strange Mer. The way he watched her sometimes, she didn’t know whether to be flattered or to run. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you guys waiting for chapters, hopefully these two make up for it ;w;


	24. Twists and Turns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of this chapter I'll also include some fanart of Corrilian and Larina by the lovely LizardBrain!

It was when she was about to enter the Great Hall, that she blindly walked into a servant, almost sending them both stumbling. 

“By the divine” Larina gasped, “my apologies!” until she realised who it was as he turned and flashed her a confident grin. 

“ _ Joric _ … well if it's you I rescind my apologies!” Larina grinned and helped him retrieve some of the papers that had scattered on the floor, and asked, 

“Are you a courier now?”.

The young Nord took the letters off her and ruffled his hair with a grin,

“I’ve been somewhat  _ promoted _ … I’m now a personal servant to the Justiciar! He’s certainly a lot  _ nicer _ than Anton…” Joric smiled, “I just run errands for him, fetch his letters and clean his boots and he pays me extra too” Larina regarded him with concern, wondering if the Justiciar had extra  _ work _ for him too. 

“Don’t let  _ me _ stop your Joric” Larina checked the ground in case of a stray letter before he replied, 

“No it's nice to see you actually Larina, plus I should find any way possible for you to get me more sweetrolls” he grinned. 

“So  _ that’s  _ the price of your friendship huh?” Larina smiled and let him continue on his way.

Once she entered the Great Hall, she removed the pigments from her satchel and set them on the stone table and removed her sketches from before, annoyed that she had not remembered to bring her easel with her, wondering if she had time to fetch it before they arrived. As she dragged a wooden stool, now softened with a cushion, to the centre of the room she received her answer, surprised that they were actually on time. Liesel flashed her an unforced smile, and showed her the bundle of flowers in her arms, Larina could not help but smile back. 

“ _ Thank you _ for remembering to keep your hair in braids and the flowers! They look beautiful” Larina directed the young nord to her seat, requesting her permission before she began unraveling her braids, positioning the loose waves of her hair around her face. 

“My  _ father _ was the one who actually got them,” Liesel smiled, turning her head the way Larina’s hands directed her. 

Remembering her now additional duties Larina smiled at him, 

“I’m glad you were able to persuade my aunt to get them” she noticed that for once Thonar regarded her unusually. 

Larina rose from her chair leaving Liesel where she was seated and approached him, steadying her shaking hand, wondering if he already suspected her. 

Pulling her satchel closer to herself, feigning looking for an item, she asked. 

“Is anything the matter Thonar?” and flashed him an inquisitive smile. 

His hand rested tightly on her wrist, obscuring his daughter’s view with his body before replying dryly,

“What was your meeting with the Justiciar about”. 

Larina pretended to think for a moment before replying, 

“ _ Oh _ that, yes he had some more questions about the work I do for Calcelmo, asked me some strange questions about what he gets up to, it seems he didn’t fully believe me about my involvement in the laboratory from our last interview”, feigning annoyance in her answer. 

Thonar relented his grip, 

“He doesn’t trust you…?” and Larina reacted as if she was worried by his understanding. 

“Well I haven’t been up to anything secretive, he just wanted to make sure Calcelmo was thoroughly focused on his work, I don’t really like the idea of him spying on me” she shuddered, hoping she was not being over-dramatic. 

Thonar flashed her a reassuring smile before turning to face his daughter, 

“Well you’re not the only one in the Keep, the sooner we get rid of him the better” Larina said nothing but nodded in response before returning to her seat and balancing her parchment under her journal propped on her leg. 

  
  


Only a few times did she rise from her seat, to reposition Liesel or the flowers that lay on her lap, evidently Daciana  _ had _ gifted him with some of her blooms but not the nicest of her produce. Still, despite their lack of vibrancy, the bunch of mountain flowers helped with her ideas and Larina continued to sketch them, hoping to Liesel’s silhouette as completed as possible by the end of the session. 

Keeping her focus as tight as possible, Larina continued to indulge Thonar’s questions, even asking a few of her own. 

“It’s a shame I left so early” Larina called to him, keeping her eyes fixed on her work: she knew Thonar played cards frequently with her uncle and could easily pick up a lie. 

“I heard that you all engaged in some dancing last night, did you dance Liesel?” Larina flashed a quick smile to the young nord, hoping that by including Thonar’s daughter she could relax the conversation. 

“She retired before then” Thonar interrupted his daughter, and Larina could not help but feel sorry for her, wondering if he was this overbearing at home,

“But it was a pleasant evening despite its lateness”. 

Through gritted teeth Larina lied,

“I quite enjoy dancing, I’m disappointed that I missed it” at her words Thonar came to linger beside her, and she tried to focus on her work as he murmured to her. 

“Well you shouldn’t have left earlier with the Khajiit and the Justiciar”.

“I had a  _ headache _ ” Larina sighed, “do you think the court will dance again?” 

Larina could feel Thonar’s grin and tried to ignore the turning of her stomach. 

“I am sure the bard can be persuaded for another night, if that’s what you wish” Larina wondered if this was his attempt at seduction, it made her skin crawl. 

“That would be  _ lovely _ ” she flashed him a false smile before returning her gaze to her parchment. 

Evidently, Thonar did not know how to enjoy a moment of silence as only a few minutes passed before he questioned her again. 

“How much longer do you think you’ll need on the portrait?” he stood behind her, hand resting on the back of her chair. 

“Perhaps the end of the week? I would like to refine the sketch before I add colour to it” it would only give her four days at most to take advantage of the time she spent with him to find enough information for the Justiciar: she knew she was being  _ too _ hopeful, but the thought of spending more time than necessary with Thonar was unbearable. 

“I suppose I will have to find some other excuse to spend time with you” Thonar murmured, only low enough for her to hear. Larina bit her lip and said nothing, hoping he would interpret her silence as flattery. 

With nothing more to do for that day, Larina rose from her seat and set her sketch down on the chair, walking over to Liesel to offer her a hand. 

“I think you should wear your hair down like this Liesel, it really does suit you” the young Nord blushed, she genuinely meant the compliment but knew that Thonar would appreciate the flattery she offered to his daughter. Removing a small blue mountain flower from the bunch, Larina tucked it behind her ear. Without Daciana or Edurne’s presence, Larina had enjoyed spending time with the girl, it was the closest thing she could imagine to having a younger sibling. As she returned to the stone table to gather her things, Thonar dismissed his daughter and twirled one of Larina’s quills between his short, stubby fingers. 

“That dress you wore last night was  _ exquisite _ but where did you get it? It’s certainly not something commonly found in  _ Markarth _ ” he regarded her with an inquisitive look. 

“From Arnleif and Sons, when I went with Kerah to look at the new things that Lisbet had delivered, I hope she gets more dresses like it” Larina chose not to mention the hour she had spent shaking about the dress, nervous to wear something so unusually revealing for her. The dirty looks from her aunt more than made up for how confident it had made her feel, and the side glance from the Justiciar that she only just managed to catch.

“You really should wear things like that more often, it really emphasizes your figure my dear, the swan-likeness of your neck, frailty usually suits you but that dress was something  _ else _ ” Larina clenched her hand inside her satchel, pretending to be flattered by Thonar’s attempt at a  _ compliment _ , only  _ he _ could get the saying wrong. She was tired of feeling insignificant and weak in the court, would they ever take her seriously? She had to suppress a smirk at his attempt at a cultured compliment when he didn’t know what true refinery was. 

Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, Larina concealed her shaky hands under her shawl and began heading to the door. 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your rooms?” Thonar drawled, but it sounded more like tar than honey. 

Larina shook her head, it was the only thing she would not indulge him with, she did not want him walking down those halls alone with her. 

“Thank you but  _ no _ Thonar, I am sure you will need time to get ready before dinner too? Please don’t make yourself late on my account” and she darted off before he had a chance to respond. 

Returning to her room, Larina settled her satchel and shawl on her table and kicked off her boots: sinking herself onto her bed, she wrapped herself up in a blanket and fell back onto her pillows, thinking about the day. She felt exhausted and she hadn’t even begun properly working yet. She knew she couldn’t just straight up ask Thonar for information or rush his trust in her, but the idea of playing a long game made her anxious. She imagined agents who had played this act for years, despite the dangers the thrill of secret power pleased her at least. Clearly the Justiciar trusted her too, knowing that in her disgust at Thonar she would not betray him. But if it ever got revealed….she knew how Markarth dealt with traitors and she certainly did not have the power or money of the Silver-Blood’s, even as the niece of the Jarl. By the time Larina realised she was  _ too _ warm and comfortable, she had already begun to fall into the tendrils of a deep nap. 

  
  
  


She re-awoke when she heard the frantic banging at her bedroom door, drawing her shawl around her, Larina answered the door, blearily rubbing at her eyes. 

“ _Late_ …..you’re **_late_** ” Joric wheezed before her, “the meal has already started, but they didn’t know why you didn’t show up, they sent me -”

Larina widened her eyes at his words and interrupted him, 

“Yes thank you Joric, let someone know I’ll be there in a few moments” and waited for him to dart down the hall instead of slamming the door in his face. 

_ Shit _ . 

She’d overslept and didn’t really have much time to save her appearance, knowing Daciana would revel in it. Quickly freshening her face with some water, Larina quickly changed out of her kirtle, almost tripping in the process and re-dressed in her moss green coloured linen dress. In the process her hair had begun to tumble out of its binding and she quickly piled it on top of her head, securing it with a strip of fabric. Trying on the beautiful leather shoes from the night before, Larina hoped that it would add some refinery to her appearance. It took her a while to figure out how to lace them properly again, and on a few attempts it had only taken her a few steps before they became undone again. But now her cautious steps to her door had proven successful she assumed she had finally managed it.

She pulled on her shawl from earlier and darted to the dinning hall: Larina stopped for a moment rather than rushing in head first, knowing it would garner some strange looks, caught her breath and entered the room. It was evident from her flushed face and breathlessness that she had rushed there, but apart from a few glances upward, no one stopped to comment save from the murmured words

“So glad of you to join us” directed from her aunt. 

Sliding into her seat beside Thonar, Larina bit her cheek, disappointed that she had to endure him again for another evening. As much as she had agreed to the Justiciar’s job, she loathed to be so close to him. 

He poured her a glass of wine whilst she added a portion of seared salmon and potatoes to her plate, looking around she noticed that the room was full again; all the families, the students and Calcelmo. The small flip of her stomach reminded her that this might be the last time in a while that the Keep would be so busy, especially with people she could make conversation with. 

“That flush adds a lovely bit of colour to your cheeks” Thonar drawled in her ear, she was getting better at suppressing her shudders. 

“I didn’t realise how long I had fallen asleep for” Larina took a large sip of wine, hoping it would somewhat numb her senses. 

“It’s not like you to sleep so late in the evening Larina” Calcelmo asked, a touch of concern upon his face. 

“A few sleepless nights are to blame but I’m fine” She reassured him with a smile, catching the Justiciar’s glance before lowering her own. His regard for her was off-putting. 

  
  


She was barely halfway through her meal when her uncle rose and headed for the Great Hall, Larina dropped her fork with a sigh, knowing she could not finish her meal following court etiquette. But she took her wine glass with her all the same. 

As they entered the room, the court fell into their usual seating arrangements. The men playing cards and Daciana and Kerah drinking together: usually she would be seated with them, but as long as the students were here she was going to capitalise their presence for as long as possible. Sliding into a seat between Drulis and Thonja, she noticed that Mina-diir was sitting with her aunt, discussing something intently with her over a glass of undrunken wine. 

Leaning over to Drulis, Larina asked, 

“What’s going on there?” only to be met with an annoyed murmur

“She’s cosying up to your aunt in the hopes of staying in the Keep for a while longer”, their eyes met briefly and Larina realised that his annoyance wasn’t with her. 

“But she’s staying in the Keep whilst you take out the bandit camps isn’t she?”.

“Yes but it seems she wants to outstay that welcome, though we're not quite sure why” and he took a sip of his drink. She noticed that the rest of the students were trying to hide their air of annoyance and Larina wondered if they had fallen out. She was just about to ask Drulis what had happened when the Justiciar and Thonar joined them at their table. 

“So when do you lot leave tomorrow?” Thonar asked pointedly, she wondered if she had missed something at dinner that had caused this cloud of animosity. 

“Quite early unfortunately” Thonja responded, Larina wondered if she had chosen the role of leading the group or if she had fallen into it. “We might have to leave you all a little early this evening I’m afraid”. 

Larina’s gaze flicked momentarily to Aicantr, noticing a strange look upon his face, a reserved forlornness. She was sure she had seen it on the Justiciar’s too and wondered if reserving emotions was a male thing or an altmer one. The Nord’s had no shame in showing their anger or their lust, perhaps the only two emotions they felt comfortable with. But in the few moments she had seen Aicantar or Calcelmo angry, or surprised or overjoyed it had only briefly been revealed through their reserve. 

She could only assume what had caused it in Aicantar. 

The young Nord rose from her seat, swapping to an empty one beside Aicantar and they leaned in close together to talk.

Turning to Drulis, Larina asked, 

“So you’re leaving pretty early then?” and his annoyance shifted, replaced by a slight smile.

“Indeed we are, will you be up to wish us good luck and safe travels” he joked, but even through his cockiness Larian could sense his trepidation.

“I am quite happy to, so long as I remember to wake up” he was mid-laugh at her words until his expression shifted to one of coldness. Larina flashed him a strange look until she heard the Justiciar’s voice murmur in her ear.

“May I have a word?” his drawl causing the hairs on her neck to rise. 

Larina excused herself from Drulis’ side, noticing his hand clench at his glass, and followed the Justiciar to the small table that had been set aside to host the drinks for the evening. 

Refilling her glass with wine, he murmured,

“Your attention appears to be on the  _ wrong _ man”, his gaze fixed on his refilling glass.

“If I suddenly appeared to be hanging off of Thonar’s every word don’t you think it would look a bit  _ suspicious _ ?” Larina bit back, only slightly regretting her tone. 

Evidently, he agreed as he raised his eyebrow in response. 

“I know you have to lower your standards in talking to the  _ Silver-Blood _ , but don’t let them slip further by keeping company with a  _ dunmer _ ” he bit back, leaving her where she stood whilst he resumed his company with the Thalmor agent. 

Larina paused where she was for a moment, taken aback at the Justiciar’s words. Of course his request had been right, she should be conversing with Thonar but his anger towards Drulis was not necessary. The way he had said  _ dunmer _ too, Larina knew he had had no knowledge of Drulis prior to the students arriving in the Keep, so his animosity towards his kind must be something  _ more _ .

Returning to her seat, Drulis evidently sensed her unease. 

“Now whatever could the Justiciar have said that has worried that pretty face of yours” Drulis teased, coaxing a smile onto her face. 

“Obviously nothing meant for  _ you _ to hear” Larina grinned back. 

Drulis did not press further, but smoothly rejoined them both back into the table’s conversation: despite her lack of knowledge in magicka, they still included her nonetheless, genuinely interested in her opinion on the dwemer technology she had worked on. 

Over the conversation she noticed that the bard’s music had begun to increase in level and several members of the court began to move in their seats. As Daciana and the Jarl, and the Silver-Smith’s joined in the middle of the room, she realised they had begun dancing. Larina gritted her teeth and feigned a smile, with her two left feet it was the last thing she wanted. But the sight of Thonja pulling a reluctant Aicantar to his feet and to the centre of the room put a smile on her face. 

Drulis turned to her, mouth open ready to speak, when Thonar joined her at her side, palm open and offering. She reluctantly let him pull her to her feet and lead her to the centre of the room. Larina awkwardly swayed in the direction he led her, oblivious to the fact he was dancing to a different beat to the rest, their bodies far closer than anyone else’s in the room. 

“I remembered you saying earlier it was a shame you had missed the dancing” priding himself on his remembrance more than talking to her. 

“ _ Indeed _ ….was this your idea?” Larina asked, trying to ignore the sensation of his sweaty hands on her own. 

“You could say that” he grinned down at her, eyes lingering far lower than they should, for too long. 

“I can organise a  _ lot _ of things” he continued and Larina’s pace quickened. Perhaps she was reading too much into his words, but this was the kind of thing the Justiciar was looking for. 

“You’re still quite a  _ powerful _ man Thonar” Larina toyed back, hoping he’d catch her interest in his power. 

“There are a lot of things overlooked in this Keep my dear, not just my power, it's a shame no one else can see that” his eyes lingered on her face again, and Larina feigned a smile. 

They continued turning out of time, until Larina noticed that he had begun to perspire quite heavily, something he had evidently noticed himself and excused himself. 

“You’ll have to owe me another dance later” Larina called after him, his back turned to her allowing her to shudder. 

She was only left for a moment until her hand was taken by Drulis and was twirled back into the dance. Closer to the beat than Thonar but still slightly out of step, he grinned and as they danced unsure together. His body was less close than Thonar’s had been but his grip was still secure and leading. 

“I was just about to save you from that troll until he excused himself, you poor thing, you could’ve been drenched” Larina responded with a gag, positive her reaction had been covered by his body. 

“ _ Don’t _ remind me, it's all a part of living at court” Larina murmured. 

“You don’t have to play those games at the College” he replied, his eyes glancing over her appearance slowly, Larina blushed slightly. 

“That’s what I’m  _ working _ on” her words caused a look of confusion upon his face, but the music came to a momentary stop whilst the bard caught his breath. 

Larina took that moment to break free, joining Aicantar where he had been abandoned, whilst Thonja dragged her brother in to dance. 

Sliding into an empty seat beside him, Larina teased

“You look like you were having fun” and was met with a roll of his eyes. 

“I mean it sincerely Aicantar, you like her don’t you?” the Mer flashed her a look of annoyance for a moment before knowing she would see through his lie. 

“She’s very brave and stubborn...and pretty” he sighed as the words tumbled out. 

Larina playfully shoved him,

“What’s with you and your uncle falling for women who could kick your asses?” causing Aicantar to grin slightly. 

“Speaking off, did you get much further on my uncle’s poem?” he asked and Larina shook her head,

“Only a stanza, I want it to appear that it has been written by  _ him _ and not something he’s just paid for” Larina hadn’t written poetry before and as much as she enjoyed it, she was sure taking down a Dwarven centurion was easier. 

As the music restarted, Aicantar rose to his feet and pulled her back into the dance, as Larina flashed him a look of desperation he replied, 

“What? We can both look foolish together”, she rolled her eyes and allowed him to direct them almost in the wrong way. 

They danced together, slowly and unsure, and Larina felt comfortably relaxed within his embrace. There was a time that she would have melted at his touch, but now it was one of familial love. He must have sensed something was controlling her thoughts as he interrupted, 

“You’ve certainly attracted the attention of the court at the moment…” he murmured softly. As Larina opened her mouth to contest him, he silenced her with a look and continued. 

“You’ve done something to that Justiciar, I don’t know what’s going on but I’m  _ worried _ ” his gaze met hers and she sensed something deeper than concern was held. 

“I can see the way he looks at you Larina, he tries to hide it and it appears to be working for the others but I can see as soon as he sees your alone with Thonar or Drulis that facade drops, I’m worried  _ Larina _ , trust me he’s dangerous...and of course is heading right towards us” Aicantar rolled his eyes before turning them both to face the Justiciar, steadying Larina’s wobble with a gentle hand on her arm. 

“Can we help you Justiciar?” Aicantar asked, not hiding the tone of protection in his voice. 

“I’d like to borrow Miss Devereaux for a moment…” Larina thought he was planning on chastising her on wasting her time again before extending his hand for her to take. Aicantar tilted his head to one side, allowing her to make a decision, and Larina tentatively took it. 

Elevating her hand in his own, Corrilian steadily led her to the centre of the Hall, turning her gently so that she was facing the right way and waited for the right beat of music to return her to the dance. Looking up, hoping to meet his gaze, she noticed it was elsewhere. His hands steady on her own, he guided her flawlessly in time with the music, covering up her own incompetence with his own efficiency. She was not surprised he could dance well, he exuded that sort of quiet, refinery. As she turned her head slightly she caught her aunt gossiping with Kerah, casting occasional glances at them, she was the first person the Justiciar had danced with all evening. 

Distracted, Larina accidentally stepped on his foot, causing him to take a step back and finally lower his gaze to her own whilst she stammered out an apology. 

“You’ve clearly not had much practice in dancing” he drawled, waiting for the right moments to murmur in her ears, 

“It is such a shame”, his tone wasn’t mocking but she felt like she was being insulted. 

“I guess I didn’t have much time to practice between growing up on a farm, my parents being murdered and being brought to a court where half of your family despises you” Larina spat back. 

There was that slight smirk in his mouth again, Larina wondered if he ever fully smiled. 

“You can’t depend upon your tragic story  _ forever _ ….now have you learnt anything useful from the Silver-Blood?” he asked her as the bard began another song, keeping them together for a few more moments. 

“ _ Maybe _ ...I think so” her eyes briefly met hers and his raised eyebrow encouraged her to continue. 

“He told me that his power is overlooked in the court” remembering what Aicantar had said, the rest of her words tumbled out “along with a veiled compliment about myself within it” her shoulders rose briefly in disgust. The Justiciar’s gaze briefly flicked to Thonar who stood keeping the Jarl company. 

“The way he said it sounded like he meant something else….if that makes sense?” Larina asked and the Justiciar hummed in response. Following suit with the rest of the dancers, he turned her on the spot, steadily and maintaining her balance: when she finally faced him again, she realised he had closed the gap between them.

Her heart raced and she was sure he would be able to feel her pulse under his fingertips. 

“He is right about one thing, but his power is yet to be revealed” he drawled into her ear, and as her gaze lifted to his, he held it for a few moments before breaking it away.

_ Dangerous _ . 

Aicantar had described him as dangerous, and she was starting to understand why in a way she was sure he had not intended. 

He gently guided her back to the table and let go of her hand with a simple nod before rejoining the Thalmor agent who had been stood on the sidelines, clearly too uncomfortable to dance or converse with anyone sitting at the sides. 

Steadying her breath, Larina sunk into an empty seat beside Aicantar and took a sip of wine: she could feel his eyes burning into her skull. 

“ _ Yes? _ ” she asked, the shakiness in her voice evident. 

“So what exactly was he talking about?” Aicatnar asked, his voice firm. 

“Nothing” Larina knew he would know she was lying. “Chastised me on my inability to dance though” Larina hoped her self-deprecation would be enough. 

Shifting in his seat Aicantar reminded her, 

“He’s a dangerous man Larina, not just because he’s with the  _ Thalmor _ ”.

Larina had barely a moment to catch her breath before she was dragged up to dance again: she managed to convince Thonar to wait his turn, reminding him that the students would be retiring soon to be bed and that she would dance the rest of the night with him. The students made good on her word and she danced with Tholan and Marcurio, who were enjoying themselves more as the effects of the wine took hold: she had a final dance with Drulis too, barely speaking a word as he kept her close to him enjoying the time with him. Larina wondered if Corrilian’s eyes were on her now. 

When the students bid them good night, Larina was disappointed that the court barely acknowledged their departure. In the morning they were leaving to risk  _ their _ lives to keep the city safe, the least they could do was feign a heartfelt farewell. 

With their departure Larina finally resigned herself to dance with Thonar again, taking his hand as he returned her to the centre of the Hall, dancing alongside her aunt and the Jarl, and the Silver-Smith’s. 

Larina could not afford to zone out of Thonar’s idle conversation lest he slipped up and revealed something important: but it was hardly worth her attention, veiled comments about her appearance and snide ones against the students and the Justiciar. Corrilian was right to use her as a trap, Thonar was already distrustful of the Thalmor, any feigned friendship between them both would have been regarded with suspicion. As Thonar turned her in the wrong direction again, Larina caught sight of the Justiciar leaning over Mina-diir’s chair and murmuring in her ear: her stomach flipped and she moved her gaze, hoping not to meet his and wondering what they were conversing about.

As the bard took another moment’s rest, Larina took it as an opportunity to escape Thonar’s grasp momentarily and drain her glass of wine. She needed the blanket of courage it provided: she was about to pour another glass as she saw him approach her on her peripherals until Mina stepped before him and asked her, 

“I’m about to head back to my room for the night, would you mind accompanying me?” her tone warm and calming. Larina accepted instantly, apologising to Thonar on leaving him short, he reminded her that she had offered to continue dancing with him for the rest of the evening but Larina feigned a yawna and apologised again for her tiredness. She saw no point in biding goodnight to her aunt and uncle, still dancing at the centre of the room, Daciana leaning heavily against his chest. 

At a lone table the Altmer men sat, discussing in their own language, Aicantar engaging only slightly. It was the most she had heard altmeris being spoken, fascinated by its flowing sound, so alien to her. As she caught Aicantar’s eye she bid him a goodnight, causing the attention of the rest of the Mer, who regarded her for a moment. The Thalmor agent that had sat with Corrilian flashed her a look of disdain, she could only interpret a look of boredom upon Corrilian’s face and could only hope that it was not meant for her. 

Continuing ahead with Mina, the Khajiit linked arms and steadily directed her ahead. Once they were safely out of earshot, she purred, 

“It looked like you were in need of saving” and Larina bit her lip with a smile. 

“You could say that, it's a shame  _ you _ didn’t dance though” Larina smiled, knowing that she had spent most of the evening conversing with her aunt before sitting on the side-lines. 

“I’m not that  _ fond _ of it,” Mina replied before stopping before the door to her room. 

Larina hoped they would not disturb the students, returning a few hours after they had returned to the rooms to sleep. 

“Sleep well Mina” Laraina bade her before entering her own chambers.

  
Perhaps her faux yawn had caught up with her, or maybe another late night, but Larina could feel the weight of tiredness hanging on her. Undressing quickly and changing into her nightgown, Larina made sure to leave her shawl and shoes close to her bed to enable her to quickly awaken in the morning. She wanted to make sure that she could bid them all a safe adventure, and not just Drulis. Tucking herself underneath her bedding, Larina thought of how they danced that evening. He was exciting and confident, certainly sure of himself, but something was missing there.  _ Out of both mer he is surely the safest of the two _ , Larina wondered why her brain decided to interject that thought, trying to ignore it as she snuggled down under the warmth of her blankets. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst searching for these two photos I found others sketches by LizardBrain which were amazing and I'll definitely be sharing more of! ;w;   
> Please go check out their fic "The Right Place to Be" !!


	25. Soft Fur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I was so close to jokingly calling this chapter "Emotional Support Wolf)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I was so close to jokingly calling this chapter "Emotional Support Wolf)
> 
> I've decided to try something new out, rather than having numerous shorter chapters, perhaps trying longer ones? This could have been devided into three chapters but I thought it flowed better this way....
> 
> please let me know if it works or if you have any problems with it!

Larina did not need a servant to come wake her, their commotion in the hall had already woken her. By the time she had gotten out of bed, pulling a gown around herself to protect her modesty and slipped on a pair of old mules and entered the hall, they had already made their way down to the main part of the Keep. She was glad that she had briefly fixed her hair, as she was barely out of the hall before she realised the Justiciar had left his room. He was already dressed, albeit not in his Thalmor uniform, but a usual black attire nonetheless, and accompanied by his wolves. Potema padded towards her instantly and rubbed against her legs, instantly causing Larina to smile: she ran her hand through the beast's fur before turning to the Justiciar, noticing that the smaller one still clung to his side. 

Perhaps noticing her disappointment that she had not yet gained the affection of the smaller beast, the Justiciar spoke

“Hircine is quite distrustful of  _ all _ people” before wishing her a good morning, Larina wondered if his words were supposed to reassure her. 

Catching up to her in a few strides, he asked,

“I wonder why you are up so early to see the students depart?” she had become used to his veiled invasive questions by now and responded all the same. 

“They’re  _ nice _ people, I doubt many others will turn up to wish them a safe expedition”. 

“As safe as they can be whilst killing bandits” Corrilian drawled, regarding her with a sideways glance. 

He was right of course, how could she hope for their safety during an adventure like this. 

“I just wish this didn’t have to be done” Larian sighed, and before the Justiciar had a chance to speak, she continued, 

“I know it makes me sound naive, but we know  _ why _ the Forsworn are moving closer to the city, they’re as scared of the Afflicted as we are. I did hope my uncle could find some way to reason with them, the Reach doesn’t need any more bloodshed”.

They walked in silence for a few moments before the Justiciar finally responded, 

“There are many who will interpret your kindness as a weakness Larina, you should start doing the same” before he advanced ahead. 

By the time Larina finally caught up with him in the inner sanctum she saw that her guess was correct: whilst the servants were fixing their knapsacks or fixing their swords at their waists, provided by the Keep’s blacksmith, they were observed only by the Jarl, Faleen, the Steward and the three other Mer of the Keep: Aicantar and Calcelmo appeared to be keeping their distance from the Thalmor agent as much as civilly possible, his focus distracted when the Justiciar joined him at his side. As Larina headed towards Calcelmo to join him at his side, she caught Drulis’s eye as she passed, and he sloped over to greet her. 

“Morning, I’m glad you decided to get up early enough to see us off,” the dunmer smiled. 

“It might be the last time I see you” Larina joked, biting her lip at the thought of coming across as blase. “Not that I want it to be”.

Drulis responded with a grin, 

“I know what you  _ meant _ ” and for a brief moment grasped her hand and quickly squeezed it before returning to the group. Calcelmo pretended he did not see. 

Not dressed fully in his finery but still suitably dressed, the Jarl finally addressed them all, 

“There are  _ two _ camps we would like you to take out, they have made one in the mountains around Karthwasten and they have taken Broken Tower Redoubt, unfortunate to us as it oversees an important route connecting us to Rorikstead and affecting our imports. You shall be paid for each camp individually, in case you cannot destroy both you shall still be compensated” it was a large task and she felt sorry for them, they had held true to their word in completing the Jarl’s requests after he gave them access to Nchuand-Zel: but accessing those ruins wasn’t exactly a simple task, had they not proven themselves enough. Larina knew that her uncle had prefered this than giving the task over to the mercenaries that the Silver-Blood’s controlled. 

As the group began to head off, Larina gave them all a wave and wished them luck, hoping Stendarr would look favourably upon them. She watched as Aicantar left his uncle’s side and accompanied the two guards that Larina assumed were there to escot them to the city’s gate. 

“Poor boy” Calcelmo murmured, “I do hope she comes back, I’d rather not deal with him moping around the laboratory for weeks”. Larina cast the older mer a look of exasperation, it wasn’t the first time he had overlooked sensitivity towards his nephew. 

From her place on the steps Larina saw her uncle and the two that flanked him heading back towards the throne room, she wondered if they would really start working so early or whether her uncle would return to his room. 

“Why don’t you try getting another hour or two’s rest before you come join me?” Calcelmo suggested, giving her the tenderness he had forsaken his nephew. Larina nodded and walked with him as he headed towards the laboratory: a quick, backwards glance showing her that the Justiciar and the agent were heading to his office. 

Once she returned to her room and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, Larina realised she could not fall back asleep easily. Resigning herself to her fate, she rose from her bed and washed her face and dressed in a clean, long sleeved dress and pulled her curls back into a loose ponytail: wearing it high on her head so tight for days had started giving her headache. Larina even surprised Voada, answering the door to her on the first knock. 

Larina accepted her breakfast tray off the older breton, Voada cast her a look of concern. 

“You’re up quite early this morning” and was met with a shrug. 

“I couldn’t sleep actually, but I will retire early tonight if I can” but even Voada knew that wasn’t likely. Feeling the weight of the tray in her hands, Larina realised it was heavier than usual. Seeing her reaction the older Breton responded, 

“Calcelmo is worried about you, says you’ve been looking a bit sickly of late and asked me to make sure you had a bigger breakfast this morning, so I don’t want a full tray being returned” Larina accepted what she had been told and took the tray into the room with her. 

It had been a few days since she had eaten on her balcony and decided to treat herself, momentarily balancing the tray on her bed whilst she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. When she opened the door she was glad she did, the mountains across the valley barely visible through the haze of rain but it did not stop her: returning to fetch her tray, Larina held onto it awkwardly as she settled herself into her small seating spot and placed the tray before her. Two apples, bread and honey, a small pastry, a bowl of dates and a small jug of weak honey mead to wash it down with. Larina took her time, savouring each bite and glad of the indulgence and the return of the dates. The smell of the rain and the distant sound of birdsong was enough to distract her mind of the prospect of the students. She hoped the rain was more beneficial to them than a hindrance. 

As she was nearing the end of her meal she realised that she had begun to develop cramp in her legs and took the tray back into her room, leaving her door slightly ajar. Setting the tray on her stone table, Larina retrieved her timepiece and fixed it to her waist with her silver chain belt and decided to wear her amulet of kynareth that morning. Looking at it around her neck in her looking glass, Larina touched it tenderly, it had been a gift from her mother, her deity of worship. She had been so attuned to nature, something that Larina had still found a little strange with her noble background, but those moments in their garden back home reminded her of her mother’s green thumb. Most of their farm land had been dedicated to growing alchemical herbs, but there was section at the back, that was cut through with a brook, that her mother had dedicated to growing flowers: alongside her training from her father, her mother had shown her how to press and dry flowers saving them for sketching or decorating the home. Larina remembered what her aunt had said, how her mother had inspired Daciana’s interest in flowers. She wanted to pry deeper into her aunt’s memories of her mother but knew that Daciana would never indulge her. 

Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, Larina brought her breakfast tray into the hall and left it outside her door, noticing the three others in the hall, one empty and two remaining full. The distant one she knew belonged to the Justiciar, but the other two? She wondered who had eaten and who hadn’t. Those idle thoughts kept her entertained until she reached the laboratory, surprised to find Mina-diir keeping Calcelmo company. Setting her satchel on her small desk she asked, 

“Where’s Aicantar this morning?” her mind briefly hoping he had not chosen to accompany the students at the last moment. 

“Engaging in some of his own studies in the museum, best not to bother him I think” the older Mer did not look up from his desk, even when Mina brought him a cup of hot tea. 

She brought one over to Larina too and she could not help but ask, 

“What are you doing here in the laboratory?” accepting the warm cup. 

“Best not keep idle I think” Mina responded, “I asked Calcelmo if there was any work I could do to assist, not that I want to get in  _ your _ way”.

Larina blew across the cup and took a sip of the tea, the absence of a smokey smell informed her it wasn’t the black tea she liked, and when she finally tasted it she found it had a more flowery taste: she wondered if it was some of the leftover tea leaves from the kitchens. 

Thinking carefully how to word it, Larina finally asked Mina

“Why did you not go with the students to the bandit camps?” and the Khajit gave her a reserved look. 

“I knew you’d ask” Mina purred, “when we were in the ruins I saw the two workers attacked by the Falmer, barely escaping myself if it wasn’t for Estormo, I’m  _ tired _ of dungeon crawling. I only started because I was friend’s with the others but I don’t like the cold or the depths”. Even though she had not experienced it herself, Larina could understand her fear of returning to the dark. But there was still the animosity between her and the students that could not be explained. Ignoring the strange feeling in her gut, Larina cupped the tea in her hands, soothed by its warmth and asked, 

“So what will you do now?”. 

“Well I spent some time with the arch-mage at the college, helping him organise his books in a useful way, that’s what I’m going to do here…” it made sense, if she hadn’t been distracted with her sketches it might have been something she had done: organising the piles of books and papers that the two mer had strewn everywhere, even some that she had contributed to. But now it was one less thing for her to worry about. 

They worked mostly in silence, save for a few moments of conversation about discoveries or items of interest. Calcelmo had given her a few new pieces of newer dwemer artifacts, pieces from a centurion the students had taken down, and Larina took her time in recording it, adding its sketches to parchment for Calcelmo and to her own journal. She had removed her timepiece from her waist and propped it against a few books in front of her, mindful of the time. Mina joined her for a moment, asking if she wanted another cup of tea but Larian politely declined. 

A servant brought them a tray of food - bread, cheeses and meats. Calcemo joined them at Larina’s desk and pulled up a stool for himself and Mina: usually she had to remind him of his lunch when she was present, yet this time he was encouraging  _ her _ to eat. She remembered Voada’s words from that morning, somewhat comforted by the older Mer’s concern for her. They ate for a few moments in silence before Calcelmo informed her, 

“Some samples for the bathing rooms will be arriving later this evening, rugs and tapestries and the like. Too small to properly decorate the bathing room but enough to provide an example of what can be ordered. Once your aunt has discarded them I am sure you will have use of them?”. 

Remembering her plan, Larina nodded, 

“There’s a room in my hall suitable enough for a drawing room, I’ll use whatever is leftover to decorate it. I’ve been given permission of course but the steward says the decoration must come out of  _ my _ money” not that the prospect annoyed her, in fact it was a reassurance. Proof that the space would be her own…. Until she occasionally shared it with the Justiciar. 

Once they finished their lunch Mina cleared the plates aside, despite Calcelmo’s instruction that it wasn’t necessary for her to do so. Larina continued working at her sketches for another hour until she knew she needed to head to the Great Hall. Packing up her things, Mina returned to her side to ask what she was doing. 

“I have to meet with the Silver-Blood’s to finish working on a portrait” Larina informed her with a reluctant smile. 

“Perhaps I could keep you company?” the Khajit asked and Larina shook her head. As pleasant as her company would be she knew Thonar would not feel comfortable with her presence and she knew she needed him to be relaxed as possible. 

Bidding them both farewell, Larina wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and carried her satchel under her arm, heading for the Great Hall. 

She joined the Silver-Blood’s just as they were entering the room, disappointed to find that Liesel’s hair was no longer braided on top of her head but hanging loosely around her shoulders, as straight as wheat. 

Larina didn’t want to chastise her, noticing her looking of discomfort, setting her satchel on the stone table and arranging the wooden chairs, she gently asked, 

“Did you forget the hairstyle this morning Liesel” only for the young Nord to shake her head, Thonar had settled at a chair at the table, regarding them both but remaining silent, she was surprised at his lack of interruption. 

Crossing over to her, glad that she had still brought the bunch of flowers from the day before, Larina asked, 

“What happened? Why did you forget?” hoping that she did not come across as an inquisitor. 

“Edurne didn’t like it” Liesel murmured and Larina could not stop her sigh from escaping her lips: she wondered how long it would take before her cousin or her aunt’s jealousy stepped in. Of course Edurne was more fair than Liesel but any attempt at overshadowing her was instantly shot down. Larina could not help but pity the girl, giving her a one armed hug and gently informed her,

“It's alright, I have most of the sketch down anyway so I can work with that, I just need to see your pretty smile” Liesel smiled slightly and Larina felt reassured. If it wasn’t for her secretive task and Thonar’s presence she would have enjoyed these moments with the young girl. 

Returning to her seat with her parchment and easel, Larina began her work, slightly concerned that Thonar had so far remained silent, engrossed in a dossier he was reading over at the stone table. 

She was certain that at least an hour had passed before he finally joined her at her side and Larina did not want to pry too earnestly into his distraction, wanting him to reveal himself on his own. Leaning on the back of her chair he noted, 

“You’ve certainly been  _ busy _ , Liesel looks beautiful” Larina was disappointed that he had only murmured it to her and not told his daughter, his compliment only intended for her own ears. 

“Well she clearly inherited it from her parents” she knew complimenting  _ him _ was too transparent even for her, but he took it for flattery all the same. 

“It’s a shame we only had one child really, I am sure Liesel would love another sibling” his present tense alarmed her at its implication, his wife had been dead for more than two years and he was still unmarried. 

Larian gestured for the young girl to rise from her seat, informing her they would continue tomorrow, hoping to extend the work for more time with Thonar. She did not linger, reminded by her father that she needed to return home to change. As she began collecting her items, Larina coyly asked,

“You seemed pretty busy this afternoon Thonar, it was rather silent without your insights”. The older Nord smirked and assisted with her things, she pretended it did not irritate her, getting in the way of her routine.

“Boring business documents, nothing to worry your pretty head about” he drawled and picked up her easel, 

“Let me help you carry your things back to your room” his tone suggested it wasn’t a request. With no other option Larina allowed him to escort her. 

“You’re right I suppose” Larina let out an exaggerated sigh, “I know nothing of businesses or much else really” and slung her satchel over her shoulder. “I’m glad I have my painting and the work in the laboratory to keep me occupied”. 

Thonar regarded her for a moment, slowing their steps to prolong the time they spent together. 

“I sense that it still doesn’t make you happy” for once he had not missed the mark, “if you could have anything in Skyrim Larina what would it be?” his question surprised her and she was unsure how to answer. 

“I guess leaving the city…” she decided to be honest, it was easier than lying, “I am sure you’ve seen a lot more of Skyrim Thonar, I can’t remain in this city  _ forever _ . 

“It’s no different from anywhere else” Thonar responded, “Solitude stinks of the ocean and the Imperial army, Winterhold is a frozen oblivion and the rest are all stinking dens of thieves and murderers, Markarth is  _ no _ different” Larina tried to hide her hurt at his words, he may be  _ right _ but it was something she wanted to experience herself. 

“I am sure there are ways to make Markarth more amenable to you,” Thonar continued.

“I guess more freedom would be nice, the ability to join the court when  _ I _ wanted rather than expected would be nice too I guess” Larina responded with a shrug. She could be content in Markarth if she lived outside the Keep and could wander wherever she liked. 

“Walk with  _ me _ tomorrow” Thonar interrupted her thoughts bluntly. 

“I don’t think we’ll have time, I have work in the laboratory in the morning and then Liesel’s sitting in the afternoon” Larina regarded him with uncertainty. 

“Remember _I_ am paying for your time with the portrait, if I ask you to take a walk with me I’ll still pay you for that time, surely it does not matter to you if it takes another day?” Larina said nothing but shook her head. Extra time alone with Thonar increased her chances of finding the information that the Justiciar wanted. The thought of being accompanied by him repulsed her, but the prospect of being out in the fresh air again was more than worth it. 

Larina nodded an accepted his offer, 

“I’ll meet you in the inner sanctum after lunch” he responded with a flourished bow before returning her easel and leaving her to return to her room. 

As Larina entered the room and set her belongings down on her stone table, she noticed an usual cold chill. It wasn’t until she turned on the dwemer lights that she realised she had left her balcony door ajar, the direction of the wind must have changed as the floor around her bedding and half her bed was drenched. With a sigh Larina slammed the door shut and removed her damp bedding from her bed and used it to mop up the rainwater on her floor. Carrying the now sodden linen in her arms, Larian knew she had no other choice than to take it to the servant’s quarters and ask Voada for fresh bedding or if she had time to clean her own before returning to her room that night. With the pile of bedding in her arms and obscuring her view, she didn’t realise she had walked straight into the Justicar and almost stumbled back at the collision.

His tight grip around her wrist saved her from falling, but caused some of the damp linen to tumble to the floor. 

“By Auriel-el what has happened?” Corrilian asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“I left my balcony door ajar and the rain soaked my room” Larian sighed in response, the Justiciar gathered the things from the floor for her and held them for a moment. 

“I could warm these through for you, save your trip to gods knows where”.

Larina shook her head, 

“No it's fine thank you Corrilian, they are probably dirty from mopping up all the water” these few moments of gentleness surprised her. They paused for a moment as he cast a quick glance throughout the hallway before asking, 

“Is there anything you would like to tell me?” his tone suggesting boredom.  _ Yes, in fact there is, you’ve got me playing up for a skeever of man in return for what? An empty promise… _

Larina shrugged and tentatively looked around herself, 

“Nothing so far but I think I’m getting somewhere….he asked me if there was anything that could make Markarth comfortable for me and I said  _ leaving _ ” she caught his eye for a moment, hoping her wistful look would drive home her point. 

“He also asked me to walk with him tomorrow afternoon”.

“Along the city walls” Corrilian lent back against the wall, gently stroking the head of Potema as she peered up at him, Larina nodded in response.

“Did you agree?” Corrilian asked and she nodded again. 

“ _ Good _ ….if he’s asking to spend more time with you it means he’s comfortable around you, extend it and exploit it” he pushed off the wall and trailed off down the hall, his wolves following at his heels. 

_ Easy for him to say _ , Larina thought,  _ he probably has dozens of agents at his disposal without needing to get his hands dirty _ . Larina was pulled out of her thoughts by the soaken linen in her arms and continued ahead to the kitchen. 

“By the  _ gods _ , what on earth has happened?” Voada asked as she saw the young Breton enter, taking a moment of respite at a nearby table. 

“Someone with less brains than a mudcrab left her balcony door open during the rain” Larina sighed, “is there any chance of some clean linen or someone cleaning these for me?”. When she first arrived she would have been happy to do the chores herself until Daciana informed her there was a reason the Keep had servants. That they would practically feel insulted if she took the work from them. If she told Voada that now she would have laughed.

Taking the wet linen from her arms, Voada handed it to a passing servant and instructed them to clean it, 

“I’ll have someone change the bed whilst you’re at dinner, but why on earth did you leave the door open?”. 

Larina rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, 

“Well I sat on my balcony eating breakfast and watching the rain, I guess I forgot to close the door to when I realised I needed to head to the laboratory”. 

Voada gestured for her to take a seat and asked, 

“Do you have time for a cup of tea with an old Breton?” Larina smiled and settled herself, there would always be time for Voada. Waiting patiently for her drink, the older woman brought over two cups before filling a kettle with flowers and leaves and adding the hot water to it once it had been boiled. 

Again Larina found herself with her hands clasped around a warm cup, reassured in the comfort it brought. 

“Joric is working for the Justiciar now” Voada informed her but Larina murmured that she knew, noticing a look of concern upon her face, the older woman’s motherly instinct had kicked in. 

“You seem worried about him Voada, but he’s old enough to care for himself” Larina hoped to reassure her, the older woman said nothing. 

“I was thinking about  _ you _ recently my dear…” and Larina regarded her with a strange look,

“Do you know how I knew which breakfast tray was yours this morning?” Voada continued and Larina shook her head, 

“The wolf omen was present  _ again _ , and I’m concerned to what it could portend”.

“Voada, you  _ know _ the old magick is not allowed to be practiced in the Reach and what will happen if you’re caught” but it wasn’t just the thought of her uncle’s wrath that scared her, the stories of the old magick was what her father had used to instill fear in her. Only the Forsworn practiced those arts, them and apparently the old servants of the Keep. 

“It’s  _ our _ history Larina, I think practicing it could save your life one day” Larina said nothing but sipped at her tea, knowing she could not change Voada’s mind.

Draining her cup, Larina presented it to Voada as she rose from her seat and asked, 

“Any wolves in this one” the older Breton confiscated it with a sigh and told her to be on her way. As she returned towards her room Larina thought of her words, worrying slightly. Voada thought she was in danger. This woman, who had lived through the Uprising and Madanach’s Rebellion, had the feeling that  _ something _ was wrong. She knew she must be foolish if she was to ignore her warnings. 

Opening the door to her room, Larina noted that there was still a chill in the air and added another log to her heart. There was no need for the servants to constantly return to rooms to refuel the fires, they were often always lit and provided with wood to keep them going. Somewhere so isolated and enclosed as the Keep could not always provide warmth: she wondered if the old dwemer plumbing ran throughout all of Understone, but knew it would be a monumental task to fix it all. 

Changing out of her dusty laboratory clothes, Larina redressed in a brown long-sleeved linen dress and swapped her boots for those pointed leather shoes, now becoming her favourite footwear: evidently impractical for long walks, not that she was going on them, or working in the laboratory, and she was  _ so _ used to dressing practically. She untaggled her hair and allowed it to fall around her shoulders, regarding her appearance in the looking glass she wondered if she would be able to get away with wearing it down. Running her fingers through it briefly, she decided so and grabbed her shawl before heading towards the dining hall. 

The room was still fairly empty, with her uncle, the steward and Daciana only being present. This evening she was not directed towards a seat, but reluctantly took a spot where she assumed Thonar would sit. The extra table and chairs from the night before had already been cleared away: with a heavy heart Larina knew she would have to dedicate most of her attention to Thonar tonight. The Silver-Blood’s all joined them at the table before Corrilian arrived, followed by the Thalmor agent. With her uncle at the head of the table, he was flanked by his wife and the steward on either side. Thongvor took a seat beside the steward, causing Larina to move over a seat once Thonar sat down, evidently happy that she had been seated beside him again. Opposite them the Justiciar had sat next to Daciana, much to her dismay, with the agent seated beside him. Larina was at least pleased to see that once Mina was directed into the dinning hall by a servant, that she had taken the empty see next to Estormo and opposite her. The Silver-Smith’s finally arrived, taking the two empty seats beside Mina and Larina, with Hrókr, Edurne, Liesel and Adara arguing amongst themselves over who would sit where. 

Pouring her a glass of wine, Thonar murmured in her ear asking,

“So have you decided whether you will join me on a walk tomorrow?” Larina responded with a nod, repressing the urge to flinch when she felt his hand briefly graze her thigh. 

The presence of Mina made up the fact that Calcelmo and Aicantar had not joined them for the meal, over the dishes of pheasant and grilled vegetables Mina informed her that Aicantar had still not emerged from the dwemer museum despite Calcelmo’s attempts, and that they were eating in there alone. Larina wondered what they could be up to. 

Thonar took up most of her attention, even when she was not directly engaging in conversation with him, listening in to his business conversations with the Silver-Smith’s hoping to subtly catch something. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Mina was talking earnestly with Corrilian and Estormo, attempting to engage Daciana in the conversation despite her aunt looking evidently bored. 

Larina sipped her wine steadily, hoping not to wake again in the morning with a heavy head; but when the table was cleared and they all headed into the Great Hall she refused to leave her glass behind. Walking alongside Thonar, larina noticed when the Justiciar spoke briefly alone with the Jarl and Daciana before promptly giving a half-bow and leaving them. She wondered what he had said as she headed to the empty table that Daciana and Kerah now occupied with an unstopped bottle of wine. Larina directed Mina to sit with her, happy of her company at least: Thonar had gone to join her uncle at a game of cards with the rest of the men, knowing her presence would not be welcome. Once entering the Hall the girls quickly circled the poor bard, demanding he played the songs  _ they _ were interested in before forcing Hrókr into taking turns dancing with them. From the corner of her eye she noticed that Estormo had lingered at the sides, unsure what to do in the Justiciar’s absence. Momentarily pitying him, Larina gestured to an empty seat at the table, whether he chose to take it was his own choice, assuming that  _ if _ Corrilian returned the two might sit alone together. He settled in a seat on Mina’ side, leaving an empty seat between them both and one between him and Daciana.

Her aunt refilled his empty wine glass, a look of boredom lingered on his face. In his temporary unaccompanied weakness Daciana attempted her own interrogation. 

“I  _ thought _ you were supposed to accompany the students wherever they go….my apologies but I have  _ forgotten _ your name” his look of superiority was quickly eradicated and Larina could not hide her impression from Daciana’s attack.

“ _ Estormo _ ….My  _ assignment _ is to oversee the students in their  _ research _ , not risk my life in watching them eradicate bandit camps” he attempted to attempt the Justiciar’s flawless drawl but fell short. 

For a brief moment Larina and Daciana caught a glance, and she saw the faint glimmer of a smirk on her aunt’s mouth, she was playing with the agent like a cat with a mouse. 

“It’s a good thing my husband is paying for their work, I am sure your superiors would not be impressed if they took the opportunity to disappear” and she took another sip of her wine. 

A brief look of concern flashed across his otherwise reserved face, Daciana had easily gotten under his skin, it really was impressive. 

“Oh gods, he’s brought his  _ wolves _ ” Larina heard Kerah murmur before casting a glance over her shoulder. Corrilian had re-entered the room, the courts gaze upon him as his wolves prowled alongside him. The Justiciar joined them at their table and slid into the empty seat between Kerah and Larina, she wondered if Corrilian picked up on Kerah’s body language as she instinctively leaned away from him, away from his  _ wolves _ .

“I hope  _ they _ aren’t making you uncomfortable” the Justiciar drawled, catching her gaze and placing his glass down on the stone table, generously filled with a large amount of brandy. Kerah said nothing but still the Justiciar gestured away from the table, clicking his fingers in the process and they prowled off, to play fight in the centre of the room. 

In an attempt to draw him into their conversation, Daciana informed Corrilian of her questions posed to Estormo, causing the two Mer to quickly share a glance. 

“I forgot to ask,  _ Estormo _ , are you permanently stationed at the College?”. The Mer quickly glanced to Corrilian again before answering, Larian noticing that slight act of deference. 

“I am there currently to assist my superior Ancano in his research” the Mer held his head high in response. 

“And what exactly  _ is _ that research?” her aunt pried even further, neither of the two Altmer had said another word but Larina could sense a change in temperament. 

“I am afraid, your ladyship, but the business of the Thalmor is not to be divulged” his answer clearly did not satisfy her as Daciana tried to press her power. 

“ _ Remember _ your in  _ our _ court, I am sure you can tell me something” her aunt regarded him.

“Unless you are partial to information about the Psijic Order that I am not aware of Daciana, I do not think Estormo has anything to share with  _ you _ ” Corrilian drawled, taking a sip of his brandy. 

Picking up on the tension, Kerah attempted to defer the conversation, asking Mina about her life before Skyrim and why she came to the College. 

“I grew up roaming Southern Elsweyr with my family. I grasped magicka fairly easily at a young age but had to work a while to save up enough money to travel here to study. Although I know that there are a few caravans of my people traversing the lands, my family had no interest to come. They think it is too cold and dangerous”. At her words Larina felt a brief moment of compassion, understanding what it was like to travel so far, feeling so lonely and hoping to find somewhere better. She felt a slight protective feeling over the Khajit, wondering why her aunt and Kerah had become so interested in her since her arrival. 

“At the College I began training in restoration magick, but my focus shifted to archiving books and important items of study with the Arch-Mage”, Larina wondered what amazing books she must have read and seen. 

“What about  _ you _ Larina, I know you were a newcomer to this Keep, what about  _ your _ past life?” Mina’s purr interrupted her thoughts and the young Breton shifted uncomfortably in her seat: she shot a glance to her aunt, wondering if she would give her any hint of warning about proceeding, but her face was unreadable. Clearing her throat she began, 

“Well originally I was from High Rock, a small town there that no one outside of Wrothgar will have heard of, it isn’t a town of passing trade, more of a dead end”, _strangers were few and far between and there was nothing of value there really for people to visit_ , “A large river flowed alongside it and there were thick woodland on other side, _Rockreath_ made its money from lumber and there was a small mill next to the river, but it was mostly for providing food for the village. The farms mostly grew potatoes and cabbages, we didn’t really have many exciting local recipes” Larina laughed at the thought, remembering how lucky she was that her parents were able to grow herbs in their alchemy garden, adding more flavour to the endless stews. 

“Closer to the woods than the river, my parents had a homestead, the garden was mostly dedicated to growing alchemy ingredients and healing herbs as my father was the local healer, it added a bit more vibrancy to our little home”. For a brief moment Larina was reminded of the intermingling smell of dried lavender and wet moss, before she was pulled out of her thoughts.

“Did your parents always live in Rockreath?” Mina inquired, Larina was momentarily suspicious of her interest, but indulged her nonetheless, to most people around her past was not a secret. 

“No, both my parents were from Jehanna… well my  _ mother _ was, my father was originally from Cyrodiil, trained there as a mage before journeying to High Rock. He worked personally for a handful of noblemen in the city” Larian paused for a moment to sigh, “my mother always said he hated working for  _ them _ , he had trained for years to heal people, to  _ help _ , most of his work was curing their hangovers or helping them in  _ other _ ways. She never really did tell me how they met, but they married and lived in the city for a while, but mother knew how much he hated being there, they bought their small homestead and left with me and my brother, my father was much happier helping the loggers and farmers, less payment but they truly appreciated his work”.

She didn’t know if it was the warmth of the wine, or the nostalgia of old memories that she had not often let herself revisit, that suddenly flooded her with feelings of sentimentality: but she could not enjoy them for long, Daciana struggled to hide her scoff, shooting her niece a strange look before taking a long sip of her wine. Larian held her gaze for longer than she usually would, wondering what her aunt’s reaction was. For a brief second Larina caught the Justiciar’s gaze, who had been watching her steadily throughout her recollection, he had heard this information before. She noticed that strange look in his eyes again. 

Larina saw Mina shift in her seat, about to ask another question: from her awkwardness she could assume what she was going to ask and spared her the unease of inquiring. 

“A few months into my sixteenth year my grandmother in Jehanna wanted me to come and visit her, she didn’t think we’d travel to her during Sun Dusk for my birthday due to the bad weather, it was a few days before we heard knews that the town had been attacked by bandits, some sort of  _ raid _ , buildings were razed and a lot of villagers died, including my parents” the heaviness of her words no longer stung her, she was surprised to hear herself reveal them so easily. “I was allowed to return to the house to collect any valuable remains as my brother was away with the legion, there wasn’t really much to salvage”. She had brought her most important belongings with her to visit her grandmother, she could only salvage a handful of dresses of her mothers and her shrine to Kynareth. 

Before another question could be asked, they were interrupted by the shrill sound of a shriek, even as she snapped her head around Larina knew it was too high pitched to be the result of the wolves' play fighting. Daciana wobbled from her seat once she realised Edurne was cowering behind the other girls, pausing rather than stumbling towards her daughter. 

“Whatever is the matter?” Thonar joined them from the other table, his regard for his daughter’s safety less evident, 

“I tried to stroke the smaller mutt’s fur but it snapped at  _ me _ , it's  _ dangerous _ ” Larina half expected her cousin to end her complaint with the stamp of her foot. 

The Justiciar snapped his fingers and the wolves prowled steadily over to him, resting in the space between him and Larina. 

“They aren’t the mutts of the  _ Keep _ , they are trained wolves and don’t take kindly to grabbing hands or surprises” Corrilian drawled, hardly hiding his reprimand, Larina was surprised that her aunt did not challenge him, protecting her daughter from chastisement. Instead she waved her hand at Edurne, encouraging her to continue playing or head to bed. 

Larina let her hand drop down to gently stroke the fur behind Potem’s ear, her appreciation shown with her strong, wet muzzle brushing her forearm. 

“Are they really safe to be around the Court, Justiciar? Perhaps they should remain in your room?” Thonar had come to rest behind her chair, leaning his weight on its back. 

“I have no interest in keeping intelligent creatures in enclosed spaces” Corrilian took a sip of his brandy but did not break his gaze from Thonar’s: if she was on the receiving end, Larina knew she would wither and look away, but Thonar held out longer than she would’ve, inevitably breaking away. 

There was no empty chair at their table and he did not seem interested in returning to the game of cards, and so remained closely behind her. Forcing herself to contradict her body’s natural intention, Larina rested further back in her seat and closer to Thonar, feigning an uncontrolled reaction to his proximity; the sooner she had the information the Justiciar wanted, the better. 

At least the attention had been shifted from her, thanks to the wolves, and even with Thonar’s presence Larina continued to pet Potema, her soft fur keeping her grounded and comforted. She managed to fall out of the conversation easily, only answering when she was directly spoken to. She was even somewhat thankful when it was Thonar who asked her if she was tired and needed to retire for the evening, only just able to convince him not to accompany her to her room. Larina hoped that in her momentary stalling of saying good evening to them all that she would be able to catch the Justiciar’s gaze again, but he was fully focused in his conversation with the Thalmor agent. 

Reluctantly she headed towards her room on her own, the warmth of the Hall and her wine instantly challenged by the coolness of the hallways, the dwemer steam of the inner sanctum did not drift down to these depths in the stone. She quickened her step, hoping to return sooner to her room, for its warmth and her bed, until she heard the sound of padded footfall behind her. For a moment she ignored it, hoping her mind was playing tricks on her, until she heard it again. Larina quickly spun around, hoping to catch her follower face on before bursting into laughter at her own foolishness; at the sound Potema tilted her head in confusion. Giving the wolf a fuss, Larina sighed “have you come to make sure I get back safely? You’re so sweet”. The wolf padded alongside her and Larina kept her hand buried snugly in her fur. Once they reached her bedroom door she was unsure what to do, but reluctantly left the wolf waiting in the hall, hoping she would return to the Justiciar. 

It was as she was halfway through undressing that she noticed the sound of scratching at the metal door, throwing her shawl around herself for modesty, Larina slowly it, but it was plenty enough for Potema to squeeze her head through and whine at her. Larina crossed her arms in confusion, unsure what to do; opening the door to check the hall to see if the Justiciar had returned, Potema took the opportunity and darted inwards, settling before her hearth. There was no sign of Corrilian. 

Reluctantly Larina closed the door shut behind her, hoping that Corrilian would in some way know where his wolf had wandered off to. 

“This _won’t_ be a habit Potema…” even for a predator her large eyes were adorably convincing. Assuming she would remain on that spot in front of the hearth, Larina removed her shawl and blew out some of the candles before tucking herself beneath her blankets. Just as she was comfy and settled, Potema bounded over, leaping onto the foot of her bed and curling up there. As much as she wanted to shoo her off, Larian found her weight and her warmth comforting and allowed her to remain; drifting off into her first night of restful sleep in days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry guys for taking a while to post a new chapter! It took me ages to finally get this finished as my final italian exam is this wednesday! ( sono condannato ;w;) , hopefully this makes up for it and let me know if you prefer this kind of longer chapters! 
> 
> I also I am aware that when I tried to post LizardBrain's art of Corrilian and Larina they weren't working, I have a tag on my tumblr for the work if you want to give it a look (please do its amazing!!) https://primanoctis.tumblr.com/tagged/the_flower_of_markarth


	26. Flowered poetry

When Larina awoke that morning, she reluctantly remembered her agreement with Thonar and groaned into her pillow. She knew she could not come up with some last minute excuse and decline, the Justiciar would see this as the perfect opportunity for her to get closer to Thonar. Sitting up and resting her head on her knees, Larina conceded herself to the thought that at least she would be outside again. When she heard Voada’s knock at the door, she pulled herself to her feet to answer, only to be surprised to find the Justiciar waiting there: when he cleared his throat and looked away, Larina remembered she had only been wearing her nightgown. Blushing deeply and closing the door too, she quickly grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around herself tightly. 

“My apologies Corrilian….I had assumed it was a servant with my breakfast tray” Larina stammered out apologetically. 

Corrilian said nothing, his gaze returning to hers, head slightly tilted. Larina was about to ask if she could help him in anyway before he spoke,

“I thought it would be best if I saw you before you meeting with Thonar this afternoon” she couldn’t recall informing the Justiciar and assumed he must have overheard her conversation with Thonar. She wondered if he was going to offer her some advice. 

“If this was any other circumstance you would have been properly trained before being sent out to gather information, after all any mistakes would of course lead back to us” Larina shuddered to think what would happen then, wondering if captured spies would have preferred remaining with their captors than returning for punishment at the hands of the Thalmor. 

“Unfortunately time is working against us, the  _ traitor _ we apprehended in Falkreath did manage to reveal some information to us before his demise, and the Silver-Blood is a considerable threat”, he drawled his words, no hint of concern at the apparent danger she was placed in.

“Evidently, if he suspects you are working for me there is no telling of how he will react, and you can hardly carry a weapon upon yourself without it being noticed” as he raised his arm from his side, Larina realised he had been holding a slim, dark wooden box. Offering it to her, Larina took it and before she had a chance to ask for an explanation, Corrilian gave her a short, sharp bow before leaving down the hall. 

Voada passed him on the way, surprised to find the young Breton lingering in her doorway with a strange look upon her face. 

“Dare I ask why you were conversing with the Justiciar in just your nightgown?” the older Breton asked, eyes flicking down to the box in Larina’s hands. 

She raised an eyebrow, and Larina shook her head, placing it on the tray before taking it from Voada. “He is quite impressed by Calcelmo’s work, thinks he may have use for this but doesn’t have time to deliver it himself” Larina explained, the look on the older Breton’s face worried her that she had not bought her excuse. 

With narrowed eyes Voada replied, “make sure you eat all of this again, since you’ll be extra busy with the rest of your duties, leave your tray outside your door as usual”, there was a strange tone to her voice but Larina decided not to question it. 

Placing her breakfast tray on her table, larina closed the door behind her before retrieving the strange box from her tray and returning to her bed. It was a simple, dark wood box with a metal clasp and she wondered what it contained, but hesitantly left it where it lay. From what the Justiciar stated with his words she knew it must be some discreet way of protecting herself. With her curiosity getting the better of her, Larina flipped the clasp and lifted the lid. It was a hair pin. Carefully, Larina lifted it from the box and held it up to her dwemer light, only a slight glint of a reflection bounced off it, it was the colour of cream and she had never seen a material like it. At the wider end it was decorated intricately with swirls before it tapered to a fine point: as Larina turned it in her hand, the point glanced her thumb. She instantly felt a sharp pain and when a small bead of blood began to appear on the pad of her thumb, she realised how sharp it really was. Even with the glance of a touch it had broken the surface of her skin, she wondered how dangerous it would be directed with more force and precision.  _ He _ had given it to her for protection, carefully concealed within her hair she would have at least some way of defending herself. He had thought of her, in some way, with concern and the prospect of it elicited that strange feeling in her stomach again. 

Quickly wolfing down her breakfast, Larina washed her face at her basin and tied her hair half up as usual. She retrieved that blue dress that he had once advised her to wear, and dressed in it again, pairing it with her new favourite shoes: neither of them were appropriate for working in the laboratory or for a walk around the city walls but hoped for the effect it would have on Thonar. Retrieving the hairpin from her bed, Larina carefully inserted it into her half bun, careful not to glance at the skin of her scalp. Regarding her reflection in the looking glass, she was happy to see that at least the paleness in her skin had lifted slightly, if not the bags under her eyes. Yet without her satchel slung over her shoulder, she felt somewhat weightless, like something was missing. She momentarily wondered if it ruined the look of her dress before shaking away the thought and fixing her silver belt around her waist and attaching her timepiece to it. It provided somewhat of a comfort. 

She felt a small pang of guilt when she left her breakfast tray outside her room again, wondering if Voada had been annoyed at seeing them together: Larina shook her head, there was no way she could misconstrue her meeting with the Justiciar, as suspicious as it may have appeared she thought her excuse might have been somewhat believable. Larina covered herself in her shawl, somewhat embarrassed at how overdressed she would be for working with Calcelmo, worrying slightly that she might smudge the beautiful skirt of the dress with charcoal dust. When she entered the laboratory, it was evident that her shawl was not enough to conceal the vibrancy of her arraignment. Calcelmo raised an eyebrow and asked, 

“Is there a ball happening that I am not aware of?” she knew his sarcastic tone was only a playful one and she responded to his confusion. 

“This afternoon I’m going on a walk with Thonar, it's not often I get to step outside so I thought I’d make the most of it….” Larina knew Calcelmo understood how much she longed to be out of the Keep. 

Making sure that Mina was suitably distracted, flicking through the unorganised papers strewn across his desk, Calcelmo grabbed her by the crook of her arm and quickly guided her to her own, empty table. 

“Why has the Justicar asked you to do this?”, Larina could not hide the startled look upon her face, how did he know she was working for Corrilian?. 

Attempting to hide her concern, Larina replied, 

“I don’t know what you mean Calcelmo? Thonar has just asked me for a few moments of his time, you  _ know _ what he thinks of me…”. 

Sinking into an empty stool with a sigh, the older mer fretted, 

“Yes I am  _ very _ aware of what that fool thinks of you, and how  _ you _ feel about him, so I can guess what has motivated you to spend so much free time with him recently” she knew Calcelmo treated her like family, but the vocalistation of his concern for her startled her, she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of guilt and apprehension. 

“Whatever he has on you to make you do this,  _ tell me _ , you know I will help if I can”, Larina sighed with relief, so he didn’t know the real reason for now. Resting a hand on his forearm, Larina squeezed gently. 

“I can take after myself Calcelmo, I promise you, I’m hardly going to turn him down when he’s paying for the portrait and bought me those paints, I can endure this one thing. I think you should be worrying more about your nephew, he doesn’t usually act like this…” at her words Calcelmo interrupted her with a raise of his eyebrow: Larina looked over her shoulder to see Aicantar finally join them at last. 

He didn’t look himself, there were bags under his eyes and with his hood down she could see his hair was somewhat dishevelled. She knew the altmer did not need as much rest as their human counterparts, but he looked like he had not slept in days. That familial concern crept in again. Larina shook her head and beckoned him to her table, disappointed to see him stall for a moment before joining her and his uncle. 

“By the gods Aicantar, I mean this in the nicest possible way but you look like a  _ wreck _ , you didn’t look this bad when you returned from the dwemer ruins I am sure of it” Larina could not hide her concern in her voice. 

Aicantar simply dismissed her with a wave of his hand and asked Mina if she could make him a cup of tea, 

“I’ve just been working late on something, when it’s ready you can see what it is and I am  _ certain _ it will make up for you not joining us on the trip” there was something about his words that worried her, almost as if he was concealing something.

Larina decided not to press upon it, instead enjoying the short amount of time he had decided to spend with them before returning to his workshop in the dwemer museum. Knowing that keeping her hands busy distracted her from worrying thoughts, Calcelmo returned to her with a handful of letters from his desk. 

“Now that the ruins of Nchuand-zel have been liberated, the Archmage at the college has requested some sketches, in as fine as detail as possible. A new book on the ruins will certainly encourage scholars to visit, and if we include your drawings your name will certainly be included on the cover”.  _ Her sketches would be seen by the Archmage _ ? Larina sat up in her seat, if she couldn’t get into the college on magicka alone, surely her scholarly skills under Calcelmo would be considered? If Mina-dir ever returned Larina could go with her, perhaps assisting them in his library. 

“I guess I really should work at refining them….” Larina chewed on the end of her charcoal pencil, unaware that she had stained her lip. 

“It will only be a prototype for now, to get the right scholars invested, but I understand that you would want it to be your best work, your dedication to your craft is admirable Larina” even with his often kindness, Calcelmo rarely complimented her, and Larina could not help but smile. 

For those few hours she sat, sketching and refining as carefully as possible not to cover herself in charcoal dust: rather than shading her work in as usual she left it as it was, hoping that once she returned to working on Liesel’s portrait, she could use her paints to properly colour in the dwemer machinery from the ruins. The bowls and vases that they had found intact had been decorated, amongst the gold, with fine swirling patterns of silver and blue. She wondered if it was a detail specific to their ruins or perhaps a universal one.

It wasn’t until Mina came to sit beside her, that she realised how much time had passed. 

“I was going to bring you a hot cup of tea, but Calcelmo realised the time and suggested I let you know” the khajiit purred, and when Larina fumbled for her pocket watch, she realised that she was going to be late. 

Quickly sliding herself off her stool, Larina looked down at her hands covered in charcoal dust and wondered at how she would quickly clean herself. Removing a soft handkerchief from her pocket, Mina offered it to her to wipe her hands. 

Thanking her, Larina smiled sheepishly“I should have brought my own really, I’m sure Voada will be able to clean out the dirt”. Taking the cloth out of her hand, Mina quickly dabbed away the charcoal from Larian’s face and replied, 

“It’s quite alright, an old thing really…. 

...Remember to be careful, Larina,” at her words the khajiit returned to Calcelmo’s side, asking him what she should focus on next. 

Larina was somewhat startled by her words, as far as Mina was concerned she was simply taking a walk with Thonar around the city, what did she have to concern herself about? Larina dismissed her paranoid thoughts, the poor woman would be knowledgeable by now that Markarth wasn’t exactly the safest city in Skyrim, anyone would be concerned really. But still that thought lingered uncomfortably in the back of her mind. 

As she hurried to the entrance of Understone, she noticed that Thonar stood near to some guards, a look of annoyance plastered across his face. Once he noticed her approaching. however, it disappeared rather quickly. 

“My apologies Thonar, I lost track of the time” Larina made sure to look as apologetic as she could muster, if she managed to make it through this  _ mission _ without being caught she was certain her acting skills would impress the Bard’s College. 

“Although I cannot possibly fathom why you would want to spend so much time in that awful room, your dedication to assisting that old fool is quite impressive” Larina chose to ignore his backhanded compliment, smiling only slightly at his words. She knew he preferred her when she acted docile. 

Thonar gestured for the guards to open the doors and allow them to pass out onto the stone opening before the Keep. 

Larina squinted slightly when the natural sunlight hit her eyes, but the blinding was well worth the slight pain. The air was cool and crisp, the thundering sound of the waterfall above them almost completely drowning out the sound of the foundry in the distance. The dark blue sky that slowly encroached towards them hinted at the possibility of rainfall. Despite the cool air, Larina shrugged off her shawl, tucking it under her arm and exposing her skin to elements: her skin instantly goose pimpled, and as they began their slow walk along the wall, the feeling of the cool air brushing across her combined with the mist of cold water made her feel content.

They walked in silence for a few moments, and she was keenly aware that Thonar was watching her, still she did not let it prevent her from running her hand through the heavy downfall of water as the waterfall thundered past them. 

Settling on a piece of the wall ahead of her, Thonar sat and watched her, finally speaking when she closed the distance between them. 

“You are a strange creature Larina, your lack of courtly refinements is somewhat refreshing” she smiled with her teeth gritted, interpreting his compliment more as an insult. 

Choosing to remain standing, she replied, 

“I guess that is natural when you spend most of your life outside of a court”. 

Deflecting the topic she continued, 

“Thank you for convincing my uncle to allow me to join you for the walk today, I do miss being outside” for a moment she thought of the Falmer, corrupted in the bowels of the dwemer ruins, losing their sight forever and never knowing the feeling of sunlight again. The thought made her shudder, she pitied their fate. 

“You know if you worked for me you would be allowed out of the Keep more often” Thonar mused, rising from his perch. 

Larina nodded and flashed him a brief smile, 

“I do appreciate the offer Thonar,  _ truly _ , but working for Calcelmo  _ does _ make me happy, If I was going to be outside of Understone it would have to be beyond these walls” she remembered the half promise the Justiciar made her, wondering if it would ever come true. 

“Then I might have a better proposition…” Thonar began descending down the stone staircase, gesturing for her to follow, offering her his hand to steady her on their descent. As much as she despised his touch she appreciated his offer, she wouldn’t be the first citizen to stumble down the steep staircases of the city. With her hand now in his grasp, he quickly tucked it into the crook of his arm, his grip too strong for her to wriggle out of: he guided her back up towards the Keep and she wondered if he was planning to cut their walk short until he abruptly turned and started to ascend the staircase below the Temple. With their close proximity Larina had to suppress a shudder, she knew the Nords prided themselves at being different to the Altmer, but perhaps using scented oils was something they should not turn their nose up at. Thonar smelt of stale mead and sweat, there was a faint flowery smell but did nothing to diminish his overpowering odor. Larina tried to distract herself, only to find her brain reminding her of that usual smell of pinewood, smoke and something  _ unknown _ . 

She knew better than to entertain those thoughts, but her own body turned against her, desperate to ignore Thonar’s clutch. As they descended the staircase together, her brain imagined him taller, his grip more gentle. It made his proximity somewhat more bearable. Larina assumed they would climb even higher to the summit of the Temple, its views of the city and the Reach could not be rivalled elsewhere in Markarth. Instead, Thonar guided her to its underbelly, a balcony that overlooked the street below: evidently from the strewn leaves and abandoning baskets, it was not visited often. Relinquishing her from his grip, Thonar slowly walked ahead before leaning on the stone railing and peering below. Larina needed no signal to follow and promptly joined him at his side, disappointed that the view was corrupted mostly by the stone overhang. 

Breaking the silence, Larina asked, 

“What did you mean by a better proposition?” she knew her curiosity would not let it pass. 

Thonar’s grin unsettled her, 

“The family is expanding their business, especially in the silver trade, unfortunately not too far outside the walls, not  _ yet _ ” Larina wondered how this would involve her. 

“Of course you’re not a part of the family...” Thonar’s gaze slowly scanned over her figure, and Larina regretted removing her shawl. 

“But your work on Liesel’s portrait is impressive, I was thinking of continuing to commission your work for depictions of our silver jewellery made with the Silver-Smith’s, through our connections with other noble families we hope for more exports, after all the Emperor is coming to Skyrim for the wedding of his niece, we might be able to interest him” like always Thonar was quick to exploit any situation, it was no wonder his family had managed to own more than half of the city. 

Still confused, Larina asked, 

“I’m still not entirely sure -” Thonar silenced her with a wave of his hand, the action instantly annoying her but still she bit her tongue: Larina wondered how Betrid had endured his company. 

“Once you have finished your portrait of my daughter, I want you to come and sketch for me at the treasury house, there is a room in the back you can work from, you can continue whatever it is you do in that laboratory and then work for  _ me _ in the afternoon”. 

The thought of working for him and in such proximity made her bulk, even though she was alone with him when she worked on Liesel’s portrait, the presence of his daughter somewhat curbed his behaviour: outside of the Keep there was no possibility of a passerby keeping him in check or coming to her aid. Yet the prospect of being able to leave the Keep influenced her. 

Seeing her mull over his words, Thonar added,

“You wouldn’t have to rely on the dwemer light to work, the back room is perfectly lit by a large window overlooking the Reach” Larina could not hide her sigh at the prospect. The dwemer light artificially replicated the natural light of the sun, but the possibility of _real_ sunlight to work in swayed her. Of course being situated inside the treasury house gave her the possibility of being exposed to more of Thonar’s work and secrecy, hoping that his feeling of comfortability around her would inevitably lower his guard. 

“I requested Mina for a portrait after I completed the one of your daughter, it's not often we get strangers here in Markarth and I did not want to decline the possibility of sketching a khajiit” Larina’s earnestness was exposed in her words. 

“It will not take me long to finish both portraits, though it truly is a shame I will not get to spend more time with Liesel, its starting to feel like we’re slowly becoming better friends” despite the honesty in her words, Larina decided to leave out the fact they had never been friends in the first place: Edurne had always prevented that. But she genuinely was enjoying the time she had spent with the younger nord, watching her slowly come out of her shell more. 

“Liesel does not need anymore  _ friends _ , she needs something more” Thonar interrupted her thoughts, and as if divinely interrupted by Kynareth herself, his words were interrupted by the low rumble of thunder. 

“Perhaps it's time we head back before the rain comes” Larina responded, ignoring his previous comment. She wasn’t foolish to not understand what he meant, his implication had been clear, and she worried that the further she descended down this path that the Justiciar had started her on, the harder it would be for her to leave. 

Gesturing for her to continue ahead, Thonar asked, 

“What is that thing in your hair, I’ve not seen it before…”

“Oh  _ this _ ?” Larina’s cheeks flushed, “just something of my mother’s I don’t really find an excuse to wear it often…”. 

“So do you agree to the proposition?” He asked, there was a strange look on his face that she could not place, she wondered how he would react if she declined. 

“Yes” Larina used all her energy to convince her facial muscles to beam, “once I finish my last project I am happy to start working for you, on the condition that it does not interfere with my work with Calcelmo as well” she remembered his words from earlier, knowing she would much prefer being known for her scientific sketches than that of expensive jewellery. Passing her at the top of the stairs, Thonar began to descend and offered her his hand again, as she slid hers into his the added heat of them caused her to shudder. 

“On the condition that when you arrive at the treasury house, you are presentable and not covered in oil and dust” he smirked at her, Larina said nothing but simply nodded. 

As they began their ascent to the Keep, Larina began to feel the gentle drops of rain on her skin. Thonar suggested for her to cover herself in her shawl but she ignored him, knowing it would be days before she could feel this sensation again. As she engaged him in idle conversation, nothing that would interest the Justiciar, Thonar revealed to her that work had begun to start on clearing the rubble from the future bathing rooms. 

With her interest piqued, Larina responded, 

“I thought my uncle had decided that work would begin once the students returned from clearing out the bandit camps?” he did not want any free hands being occupied by other work if they might be needed elsewhere. 

“It appears your aunt could not wait” Thonar stopped before the entrance of the Keep and gestured for a guard to open the door for her. 

With a short bow he continued, 

“I will see you at dinner, my dear” before heading off down the path to his home. 

For a moment Larina lingered at the entrance, watching as the rain increased in its downpour and the thunder rumbled again. Stepping into the Keep, the doors closed behind her with a heavy clang. Pausing again momentarily, she knew better than to head straight to the Justiciar with her information, her paranoia returning that she might be spotted. 

She brushed away the thought of heading towards the kitchens to request a pot of tea to warm herself, and instead began heading back to her room. The benefit of dressing finely was that she knew she did not need to change, but simply freshen up. Her shoes had been surprisingly comfortable, but the material appeared slightly scuffed. She decided that once she returned to her room she would wear her boots for the evening and ask Voada in the morning how to repair them. 

As Larina opened the door to her room, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, a book strangely propped up on her stone table, balanced by a small, empty vase. She assumed that it had been placed there by a servant, but wondered who would ask them to leave such a thing. She had almost missed the folded parchment that lay before it; opening it up, she found a verse written inside in a fine scrawl. 

_ My love is delving water, ice. _

_ That cracks with cycles of the sun. _

_ A lapping, yearning, whispered plea _

_ Will mark the time ‘til I rush in. _

_ For I have dwelt among the rocks,  _

_ My city carved from rugged stone. _

_ So in that burrow I will creep, _

_ And warm the soul which makes my home _ .

Larina could only assume who had left the note, only Aicantar and Corrilian knew that she was writing a poem for Calcelmo, but the book it lay against was the one that Corrilian had quickly shown her in his office. Now turning it over in her hands, she noted that the light brown leather had lightened with time, the swirling gold engraving on its front was clearly altmeris and she had no way to decipher it. Stoking the fire in her hearth, Larina placed the book and the note on her bed before opening the door to her balcony just a crack to listen to the sound of the rainfall. 

Slipping off her shoes, Larina made herself comfortable on her bed, tucking her feet beneath herself and wrapping her shawl around herself for added warmth. 

She noted that two pieces of paper stuck out over the pages, and so turned to them, assuming that Corrilian had translated the verse from one of them. As her gaze flicked over the pages, she noted that between the lines of altmeris, faint translations had been scribbled in that script again. 

“ _ Do smile upon the evening of my days  _

_ And, for my tortured brain begins to craze,  _

_ Be thou my nurse ; and let me understand _

_ How dying I shall kiss that lilly hand --” _

  
  


There was nothing in this long poem that hinted at the verse and so Larina flicked to the other one;

“ _ Love ! thou art leading me from wintry cold, _

_ Lady! Thou leadest me to summer clime, _

_ And I must taste the blossoms that unfold _

_ In its ripe warmth this gracious morning time.” _

Again, she found the same result, disappointed and confused as to why he would bookmark them if they weren’t in relation to the verse he had left her: this last poem was decorated with faint sketches of flowers, and Larina wondered if Corrilian had drawn them at one time, their markings fainter than his script. The words were beautiful, if somewhat forlorn, and she could not imagine them being sung by a Nordic bard. Tracing the translations with her finger, Larina gently flicked through the book, wondering if there were any other translations. Though she found none, she noticed that those little drawings of flowers and sometimes birds appeared throughout. As she gently turned the pages, a piece fell out and Larina’s stomach dropped: he had lent her this book to assist in writing her poem for Calcelmo and now she would have to return it ruined. 

Tentatively reaching for the page, Larina realised that wasn’t a piece from the book but rather a separate drawing: depicting a young, elvish boy sat cross-legged on the ground and petting a dog, there was once colour added to it but evidently with time it had begun to fade, but still she could note the little drawings of flowers in his hair. Turning it over in her hand, she noted that on the back was another sketch, this time of a little ship at sea, with an altmeris description above it. It had to be of Corrilian, there was no doubt of that, but she wondered if he had known it was in the book when he lent it to her. Larina was struck with a strange feeling of lost nostalgia, remembering her own sketches of her parents in her journal. As aloof as the Justiciar appeared, she hoped that he would be happy to see it returned. 

  
_ It's a justifiable excuse to visit the Justiciar before dinner, if anyone stops me I’ll simply inform them I’m returning the book _ , Larina pulled herself to her feet, checking to see if she had enough time to visit him.  _ But would they not question why a Breton would be reading a book of untranslated altmeris poetry _ ? Larina dismissed the second voice in her head, hoping she could come up with an excuse on the spot if pressed. Tucking the verse he had given her into her journal, Larina pulled on her brown boots, closed the door to her balcony and clasped the book to her chest. She checked the drawing was safely enclosed inside, before heading to the Justiciar’s office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for patiently waiting for me to update, I know you were all expecting a chapter sooner than this, but hopefully these two will make up for it ;w; 
> 
> I hope you are all keeping as healthy and happy as possible during these current times! 
> 
> The two poems referenced here are by my favourite poet, John Keats! His poem Endymion and Isabella! I wonder who else will help Larian finish off this love poem....


	27. Faint ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter from Corrilian's perspective to make up for my absence.....

Despite the scattered papers before him, Corrilian could not concentrate: Ondolemar had been right that most of the work here was tedious, exacerbated by the hideous city. Letters and letters of accusations of warring families and neighbours accusing one another of Talos worship. He knew if he hauled them before the court and investigated them they would be a waste of time. His one good lead came from that traitor in Falkreath, with barely enough information gleaned out of him before his unfortunate demise. Corrilian struggled to understand by Auriel-El what on Tamriel could convince an established and respected Thalmor officer to defect and perform Talos burial rites in secret. The old mer was a fool.

Still, when he had arrested him, the man showed no sign of fear or anger, simply acceptance, as if he already knew he had been living on borrowed time. Corrilian had made no assumption that Runil would have hoped that his well earned respect in the Dominion would have rewarded him with re-education rather than a death sentence, but he appeared to have no interest in returning to Summerset. Now that he had begun to think about it, he found himself thinking of home far less since his arrival in Skyrim. Of course, the place couldn’t compare to Skywatch, but he would hardly call that place home now. 

Making a brief note of each complaint and accusation in a journal, Corrilian bundled up the papers and threw them onto his fire, there was no need to waste his time in responding. As the sound of heavy rainfall began to batter at his small window, his mind jumped to what he had been working hard to avoid all morning. Wherever they had walked to in the city, it was bound to have been called short by the weather now: although knowing that boar’s behaviour, he held no doubt that he would have continued to drag her through the rain. Corrilian pressed his fingers to his temple, he had no reason to assume that thought and what’s more, no reason to allow it to bother him as much as it did. 

Hoping to distract himself from his thoughts, he shrugged off his heavy, Thalmor cloak, draping it over the back of his chair. The heat from the fireplace was beginning to get to him, and so he headed towards his window, opening it slightly, allowing the cool air to fill the room. Rolling up his sleeves, he lent his forehead against the cool pane of glass, squinting at the faint view of the Reach it rewarded him. His thoughts drifted to her again, and this time he allowed himself to sink into them. When she appeared shocked at his presence that morning he wondered if he had awoken her, his brief glimpse of her in nothing but her nightgown seared into his mind: it was evidently old, its length too short on her legs and its material slightly  _ too _ thin. Her hair had hung an unruly mess around her face, pale and soft from recently awakening from sleep. It was these brief moments that he wondered if she was  _ too _ fragile and if he had made a mistake in involving her spy work. But those brief glimpses of her ferocity and stubbornness had proven otherwise.

He had hoped his guilt would be assuaged by gifting her that hairpin dagger, at least someway in defending herself if she found herself out of her depth: but still that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach lingered. 

Corrilian was pulled out of his thoughts by a knocking at his door, wiping the small droplets of rainwater off his face, he wondered if she had come straight to him after her walk. It would be a foolish thing to do, there was no way of knowing which guards were in the pockets of the Silver-Blood’s, their underhanded power evident throughout the city. He was somewhat disappointed to find the young Nord stood before his door, helplessly trying to grapple with his tray that he had balanced in one hand as he had knocked on the door. His guards had evidently not helped him, the faint smirks on their faces showing they enjoyed watching him struggle. Corrilian gestured for him to step into his office and closed the door too. 

Perching on the edge of his desk, Corrilian pinched the bridge of his nose before speaking, 

“I thought I told you boy that I do not require you bringing food to my office, even if I had the need to eat as glutinously as your people do, do you really think I would eat in here and encourage the presence of rats?” the young Nord’s gaze dropped to the floor as he murmured a “no sir”. 

Regarding its contents, Corrilian removed the teapot and cup from the tray and set it down on his desk, leaving the pastry in its place. 

“Why on  _ Tamriel _ have you brought me that?” his mocking tone ringing in his own ears. 

The young Nord’s face flushed before responding, 

“Voada wanted to bring you something to keep you going into the evening meal sir”.

Corrilian rolled his eyes, how many times would he have to inform them before they learned? 

“I will remind you this final time boy, not to bring food to my office, no matter what the other kitchen servants say, is that understood?” he nodded but did not raise his gaze. 

Exasperated, Corrilian berated him,

“I expect you to look at me when I’m talking to you boy” his eyes quickly rose to Corrilian’s amber ones, and he was surprised to see the shimmering of tears within them. Remembering that the boy was new to the keep, probably the result of the Reach’s refugees, he added. 

“Keep the pastry for yourself” and before the boy could become accustomed to a slight taste of kindness, Corrilian added “and don’t bother me again”. 

The young Nord quickly departed the room and Corrilian returned his seat, resting his legs upon his desk: no doubt the whelp was scoffing down the cake before the kitchen servants caught him. His brief moment of kindness had even surprised himself. Even with the window ajar, the room was still too warm, and knowing it was too much of a pain to relight the fire again if he let it go out, he unbuttoned his shirt slightly before pouring himself a cup of tea. Closing his eyes he enjoyed its smoky scent and its warmth between his hands, as he made plans for his afternoon. 

Corrilian decided that he would create a short debriefing for Ondolemar, updating him on the current situation whilst he waited for the right moment to strike. The Silver-Blood was smart, for a Nord, and Corrilian knew he would not expose his hand too easily. He would inform his superior of his spies in the court, but he already knew he would not name Larina, in his mind he justified it that he could not risk her being exposed, gaining a spy with that close a proximity to all the nobles of the court was not easily gained, he was sure Ondolemar would support his protection. 

Returning his legs beneath his desk, Corrilian slowly began compiling his dossier between sips of tea: sparing no detail in order to add to its length and emphasis his work. Unlike his previous positions, progress had been slow, and he worried what his superior might think. As he wondered whether to send the letter by bird or by courier, he was interrupted again by a knock at his door. Rising from his seat, Corrilian let out his exasperation with a sigh, if that whelp had come to bother him again -- 

_ She _ was stood in the doorway, his book cradled in her arms. He wondered why she had brought it with her and regarded her for a moment, noting the faint smile on her face. Corrilian watched as it quickly disappeared and he wondered why until he realised her gaze had lowered to his exposed chest: at the thought of her drinking him in, the hairs on his arm rose, and he cleared his throat before quickly turning and gesturing for her to step in. With his back to her, Corrilian buttoned his shirt before sinking into his seat. The door had clanged shut as his guards closed it, and still she remained hovering by the empty chair. 

Corrilian gestured for her to sit and she did as she was told, her gaze lowered to his book on her lap. 

“I had not expected you to visit me so soon” he drawled, of course he had not expected her to visit him straight away or reveal her information to him in the great hall, the opportunity was too risky, and had hoped she would seek him out the following day. Still he wasn’t disappointed by her presence. 

“I thought it would look too strange if I visited you straight after my walk with Thonar, but then an opportunity presented itself” her words implying in his book.

Corrilian opened his mouth to ask why she had returned it to him, somewhat disappointed that she did not want to hang onto it for longer. Foolishly he had spent the time translating two poems that he thought she would enjoy; from his brief look at her own work, she was clearly gifted in her poetry as well as her paintings, a gift that could only be encouraged by the superior altmeris poetry, the thought of her penning inspiration from drunken Nordic bards was laughable. 

As if sensing his annoyance, she interrupted him to his surprise. 

“I will explain  _ afterwards _ but I thought I’d inform you of my meeting today…” that faint smile returned to her face again, evidently whatever she had found out she was excited to share. Corrilian lent back in his chair, steepling his fingers before nodding for her to continue. 

“We only really walked around the upper walls before the rain came --” he wondered why she felt the need to justify that to him. 

“But Thonar informed me that he would like me to work for him because his family business is going to expand, I already knew the Silver-Blood’s had arranged an agreement with the Silver-Smith's to combine their jewellery making with his pure silver and export it all over Skyrim. But he suggested that he has growing connections outside of Skyrim, hoping to reach the Emperor himself!”. Corrilian thought on her words for a moment, wondering how to respond, before she blurted out a continuing response. 

“It's quite well known within the city, and I am sure I told you before, but before Thonar’s involvement with Madanach was revealed, the Silver-Blood’s owned a lot of property and business in Markarth as well as the Reach, rivalling my uncle. Most people in the city were, and still are, scared of the Silver-Blood’s as one wrong word or disagreement would result in them being imprisoned in Cidhna mine and my uncle turned his back on it, and still would” her frustration leaked into her words and her expressions. From what he knew she had only been in the city for a few years, at yet its corruption evidently disgusted her. 

“Perhaps my uncle had no choice in the matter, with their growing power, but it should never have happened in the first place….” her gaze met his and he was surprised by the expression of anger on her face. 

Corrilian nodded briefly in agreement before responding,

“It seems like the Silver-Blood’s are hoping to increase their power again, perhaps capitalizing on the current Civil War…” noticing the confusion on her face, he explained. 

“The city is an important seat of power in the south west, we already suspect that traitor Ulfric is looking for a way in and expanding his influence. With another city in allegiance to him, Falkreath and Whiterun would stand no chance against his forces”. Corrilian noticed that she paled at his words, wondering what part of his information distressed her. 

“What work has the Silver-Blood asked you to do?” he drawled, hoping his curiosity was well concealed. 

“In the afternoons he would like me to sketch some of the new jewelry they are making, ready to send it off to possible buyers. I agreed because I thought if I was inside the treasury, my chances of overhearing something important would increase!” from the widened smile on her face, he realised she was proud of work. But all he could feel was the faint pull of concern. 

“Outside of the Keep, I --  _ we _ , cannot protect you as well” he had not planned for his slip of the tongue, and he was sure she had noticed it.

“I know…” she murmured, her apprehension clouding her face again, “but at least I have this to protect me” she gestured to the hairpin in her hair, he was glad she had taken it with her. She had murmured a  _ thank you _ and Corrilian curtly replied, 

“We aim to protect our agents in any way we can without exposing ourselves or them”. 

For a moment they both sat in silence, both regarding each other before Corrilian finally spoke again. 

“So how did the book come to be a useful tool in visiting me? I hope you are not returning it too soon…” he had not aimed to add that last part. 

She quickly shook her head and replied, 

“I’m not, well I hope not anyway, although I can’t really understand the untranslated parts…. But thank you for leaving it for me, especially that verse as well. It wasn’t present in the two pieces you translated for me though, did you write it yourself?” her face was a mixture of confusion and curiosity, he could not think of a suitable answer and so simply nodded. 

“I didn’t know you wrote poetry Corrilian” she smiled, and the way she softly spoke his name echoed in his ears. 

“I  _ don’t _ ” he responded, perhaps too abruptly and that smile disappeared again. 

Tucking a stray strand behind her ear, she added, 

“Well, when I was flicking through the book this page fell out, it doesn’t appear to be a part of the book and I assumed you had not known it was in there…” standing slightly she reached across the table and offered him the piece of paper. 

Taking it from her hand, he recognised the drawing straight away, unable to hide his reaction as he felt his breath pulled from his lungs: he knew she was watching him curiously, but in this moment she was invisible to him. It was his mother’s drawing, he had assumed that he had lost it years ago, never expecting to find it within the book, his own fault for leaving it neglected for years. A moment from happier times before he had gained his parents fear and hatred. 

Breaking their silence, he quietly explained, 

“My mother gifted this to me before I left for College…” he withheld part of his reluctance to go, vocally expressing his hatred of his parents when they sent him away. 

As he turned the page over in his hand, she spoke again, 

“I noticed the words on the back but obviously could not read them” she blushed at her own words, and he noticed that in his silence she had begun chewing nervously at her bottom lip. He had half a mind to not explain it to her, but found himself translating, 

“The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous

and the storm terrible,

but they have never found

these dangers sufficient reason

for remaining on the shore”

His mother had clearly tucked it safely away in the book, hoping he would read in it his spare time and forgive her for her actions. His stomach flipped at his own stubborn behaviour.

Corrilian abruptly rose from his seat, the page in his hand, and gestured to the door for her to leave. He could not find the right words he wanted to say. He wondered if that faint look upon her face was disappointment but assumed he had imagined it. 

For a moment he paused at the door planning to open it for her, and she looked up towards him sorrowfully, mouth agape as if about to speak. 

He noticed from the violence of her teeth, little flecks of blood dotted her lower lip. Impulsively, and before he had a chance to stop himself, his hand gently tilted her chin upwards as the pad of his thumb carefully brushed it away. It was only supposed to be an instant motion, planning to remove his hand straight away, until he realised his action had caused her eyes to close: Corrilian felt the gentle exaltation of air meet his hand. 

The expression on her face caused that feeling of heat to pool in his stomach again, and he tilted her head further back. With her neck strained slightly, she rose up on the points of her toes towards him. He knew the consequences if they were caught, but his body ached as he could not prevent himself leaning towards her. 

His head slowly dipped to meet hers, her lips red and full from their rush of blood, 

until he was prevented by a frantic knock at the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh, I could think of no other way but to end it like that! 
> 
> The quoet is by Van Gogh and is actually written on a piece of paper stuck above my writing desk!   
> After listening to a song LizardBrain referenced in her end notes about inspiring her to work, I think I'd like to list 'movement' by hozier as Larina and Corrilian's song! 
> 
> Also a lil' added note, I may not be able to sketch as wonderfuly as LizardBrain, but I did create a little gif moodboard of Corrilian to promote my fic on tumblr, so if you're interested, here you go https://primanoctis.tumblr.com/post/618942489874890752/for-a-mere-second-he-placed-his-hand-on-the-small , I did use a little bit of Legolas and Thranduil for the perfect blonde fancast :')


	28. Touches in moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually add little forewords but tonight I have two :)
> 
> 1) I am a bit ill and don't know whether Sunday is the day or my name, please forgive me if some of the sentences sound strange or if the grammar is off. I have read it through to check but apparently I have lost the ability of comprehension overnight
> 
> 2) towards the middle of the story I make reference to the college of sapiarchs, I have twisted a little bit of the lore on the college for a future chapter and I hope it will make sense! So please don't let it ruin the process of the chapter too much!

His face had been mere inches from hers, she had felt him so dangerously close: she had wondered if he had sensed she was upset when he abruptly rose from her chair, signalling for her to leave. Larina had worried that she had angered him, prying after personal details that did not concern her. She had watched when he had turned that page over in his hand, realising he was seeing the note for the first time. The Justiciar had always acted so aloof, she had never really seen him express any form of emotion. She had realised he had sucked in a breath for far longer than usual, by the hollowing of his cheeks. He looked so sorrowful, and it caused her stomach to flip. 

She had not intended to ask him about the inscription, assuming it might be too personal to share, but could not help her curiosity. She had assumed by his furrowed brough that he was reluctant to share it with her, and was surprised when he revealed its meaning. It was the gentlest she had ever heard him speak so far, and sensed the despair that was hidden in his words. 

When he rose and headed towards the door there was so much she wanted to ask him: when he paused and gently took her chin in his hand, his touch firm, she could not help herself melt into him. Impulsively her eyes had closed, and for a mere second the thought that he was regarding with confusion crossed her mind, until she felt him tilt her head further back. The warmth of his body bridged the gap between them, and she longed to feel his press against her, a strange feeling that she had not felt before began to pool at the bottom of her stomach. 

When the knock at the door startled them and he quickly stepped away from her, she felt like she had been roughly awoken from a dream. There was no expression on his face that revealed their almost indiscretion, when she was sure hers was a mixture of confusion and complacency. She had watched his hand run quickly through his hair before he answered the door, the hand laying at his side, clenched. Larina heard Joric’s stammered words through the open door, ajar enough only to reveal his presence. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you sir...it's just that I forgot to come to inform you to leave to get ready for dinner, it's about to start!” at his words Larina quickly glanced at her pocket watch for the time, by the gods he was right. She knew she was dressed well enough to head straight to dinner but she didn’t want to bring the book with her, Daciana’s curiosity would force her to investigate, and the threat of spilling wine or anything else upon it worried her. 

Opening the door further ajar she watched as Corrilian responded, 

“Your lateness worked to your benefit this time,  _ boy _ ” his tone in his words towards Joric startled her, it was nothing short of contempt. Even if he had interrupted their moment, and been late to tend to his master, surely that coldness was not necessary in addressing his mistake? 

Again she heard Joric stammer his apologies, the warm feeling in her stomach replaced with concern. 

Further opening the door for her, Corrilian stated. 

“Thank you for your time today Miss Devereaux, it has been quite useful” before he turned his back on her and returned to his desk. 

Larina took her queue to leave, closing the door behind her: she could only assume his strange behaviour was to give them both enough distance to not appear to head into dinner together. Flashing Joric a sympathetic smile only to be returned one of almost confusion, she decided she would risk dashing to her room to return the book, hoping that she would be able to filter in with the other guests or at least arrive separately from the Justicar. Paranoid she hoped that Joric would not reveal anything to Voada, but what was there to say? She wasn’t the only one that had to attend meetings with the Justiciar. 

If her aunt had seen the speed at which she had run to her room she would have been berated for her uncourtly and refined behaviour. Quickly darting to her bed, she left the book of poems on her nightstand, before heading to her looking glass to check her appearance before heading to dinner. Her hair, like usual, had strays of flyaway curls all over the place, but she realised when she took in her outfit, that there were marks of charcoal dust on one sleeve and little specks on her skirt. How had she missed them? Larina was somewhat annoyed that no one in the laboratory had told her, they probably doubted she would care if Thonar saw her this way, but it wasn’t his opinion she thought of. Risking furthering her lateness, Larina quickly undid the back of her dress and pulled it over her head, and quickly pulled her long-sleeved, grey cotton dress from her wardrobe. It had snagged slightly on her hair pin, jabbing slightly at the scalp of her head, but when she gently poked it with her finger she was glad there was no sign of blood. Pulling it out of her hair, Larina gently tucked it into her jewellery box, before quickly trying to fix the cascade of her curls around her face. For a moment she paused by her table and retrieved her smaller sketching journal and decided to bring it with her, she didn’t usually bring it along for their evenings but feeling in her gut encouraged her on. 

As she rushed into the dinning hall, slightly red faced and wheezing, she was glad to see that the table at least, was only half full. Of course Daciana had not missed her breathless entrance, earning her a look of annoyance at the fact. Sliding into the empty seat next to Thonar, she noticed he had already poured her a glass of wine and settled her journal in her lap. 

Looking her up and down, he stated

“You’ve changed...such a shame, that blue dress was far prettier” his attempt at a honeyed tone came across more like tar. 

Taking a sip of her wine before responding, she replied, 

“It was slightly dirty and I thought it was best to change” she could feel Daciana’s gaze upon her, listening in to the interactions and she knew she was forming her own interpretations. 

As the rest of the court filtered in, Larina was disappointed to see that the Justiciar was not one of them: Kerah had joined her at her left side, with Mina eagerly taking the seat opposite, two seats to her right had been left empty, until the Thalmor agent seated himself before Larina. For once she found herself glad that at least this time she was not directly in front of the Justiciar’s gaze. They did not wait to start their meal before he joined them, Larina added only a few pieces of chicken and potatoes to her plate: distractedly playing with them before eating, she was mindful that not doing so might raise questions. 

Her mind was elsewhere, with the absent Justiciar, wondering what was keeping him so long. She thought about his hands again, imaging them in other places before feeling her face begin to heat, startled by her own inappropriate thoughts at the table. Perhaps it was a good thing their almost kiss had been interrupted, there were too many consequences to think of if they were caught. She conceded the idea that if he wasn’t a Justiciar things would be simpler.

It wasn’t until they were halfway through their meal that he finally joined them, though only a few turned their heads at his arrival. Poor Estormo had been neglected for the majority of the meal, when he had tried to engage Mina in civil conversation she simply ignored him or gave brief answers, dedicating her time to Daciana and Kerah instead. As he slid into the empty seat between Estormo and Daciana, he half drained the full glass of wine that had been left for him, before adding some food to his plate. Even halfway through their meal, it was still considerably less than what towered on the plates of the Nords around him.  _ One glance across the table, that’s it, and then try to ignore him _ , Larina discreetly peered across to him, but her glance was not met. For the rest of the meal he only looked at his plate or conversed with Estormo and the Jarl. Breaking the rule that her brain had tried to sensibly control her with was for nothing. As they began to finish their meals Larina realised he had drained his glass and refilled it again before they all trailed after her uncle into the Great Hall. 

Seeing Calcelmo accompanied by his nephew already seated at a table, Larina passed her aunt and joined them. Though Aicantar still did not look in happier spirits, the tired paleness to his face had somewhat faded. 

“Why did you not join us at dinner?” she asked as she slid into an empty seat opposite them, their presence at the dining table wasn’t always a regular one, yet she missed them when they were not there. 

“We had work to do my dear, -- how did your walk with Thonar go?” the older mer asked. 

At his words Aicantar finally focused upon her, eyebrow raised and a look of concern clouded his face. 

“Don’t give me that look” Larina bit at him, surprised by the annoyance in her tone, clearly surprising the two mer too. Looking over her shoulder for Thonar’s presence, she saw him seated with the other men of the court, playing a game of cards. She noticed that the Justiciar was stood beside the Jarl conversing with him, the wine glass in his hand having been replaced with a smaller one. The colour of its contents suggested brandy, but it was filled far more than his usual measure. 

Suitably happy with the distance of Thonar, Larina explained, 

“I thought it was rude to decline his offer, he commissioned me to paint his daughter after all and paid for my art tools. Besides, it meant I got to go outside again for a while, you know I wouldn’t say no to that”. She wondered if her answer was believable enough for them, she couldn’t feign discovering Thonar in a new light and wanting to spend time with him, they’d read through it. But if she expressed how much she detested him, Calcelmo’s theory of Corrilian’s power over her would be encouraged. She didn’t really have another choice. 

Having tried to join the other tables of conversation, the Thalmor agent remained awkwardly stood on the sidelines, ignored by the Justiciar as well. Larina watched as he headed towards their table, politely asking them if he could join: she half expected the two other mer to decline, but perhaps out of civility they accepted. 

For a few moments they sat in silence, their gazes fixed on their own drinks: it was too uncomfortable for Larina to bear, and so she asked, 

“Were you at the college for long before you came to Markarth….Estormo isn’t it?” at the acknowledgement that she had only just remembered his name, the younger mer looked annoyed. 

Setting his wine glass down on the table, Estormo nodded and replied, 

“Winterhold is the first city I was sent to work in Skyrim, not counting arriving in Solitude first and passing Dawnstar of course” compared to Corrilian and their previous Justiciar, he was still relatively new to the land. 

Not wanting the silence to return, Larina continued to pry, 

“Will you stay to assist your mentor at the College or be sent somewhere else?”. Something about her question unnerved him. 

“As little as there is to do in Winterhold, with exception of supervising the students on their research trips, I quite like the College, it's such a fascinating building and I hope that even if Nelacar returns to Summerset I can remain”. His answer was sincere, surprisingly so, and Larina wondered if it was naivety that influenced his judgement. His response garnered the interest of Calcelmo who asked, 

“Is Ancano still an arrogant de’nt?” Larina could only assume what the phrase meant, the smirk on Calcelmo’s face solidifying her interpretation. 

As Estormo remained silent, Calcelmo asked again, 

“I am not planning on ratting you out to him, I’d rather not have to spend any time with him personally”. Larina wondered what meeting between them had occurred and caused Calcelmo’s resentment of him, but perhaps it was an opinion he held of the Thalmor as a whole. 

Appearing more confident in his words, the younger mer quipped back,

“I don’t think my mentor will ever change, even if he returned to Summerset!” a faint smile crept onto his face.

“He keeps threatening me with sending me to work on Solstheim, but I’ve heard about that island and I’d rather not go. No matter what work I do he isn’t impressed with, I even asked the Justiciar if he could recommend me for a position in one of the cities here but he says that the only cities that are sided with the Empire are already overseen” Larina could sense the disappointment in his words, and she didn’t need to be a Justiciar to know that not of the other cities would have welcomed his presence, even she knew that ones already overseen by Thalmor agents didn’t exactly appreciate their presence. 

“If you can endure the climate of Winterhold then I am sure you will do fine in Solstheim, the towns on the coast are certainly warmer, it's just the ash that takes getting used to”. She was vaguely aware of the island off the coast of Skyrim, if she remembered correctly ash from the Red Mountain covered a large part of the island, she had not heard of many people being willing to leave Skyrim for it. 

“Perhaps, but the college at Winterhold has reminded me what I loved about studying magick, if I had to leave I would much rather return to the Dominion college”. Larina was not foolish enough to think that the only college of magickal studies in Tamriel was located in Skyrim, there had to be more, and the mention of another piqued her interest. 

“The Thalmor have their own college of magick?” Larina asked, its prospect surprised her. 

Finally speaking, and interrupting them, Aicantar answered,

“The Thalmor took it over, the college of Sapiarchs is one of the oldest in Summerset and even worked with the college at Winterhold when it was first founded” his words held thinly veiled anger, but Estormo clearly did not pick up on it as added, 

“The Thalmor picked their best wizards from the college, even those that don’t reach that level are still expected to train there” unlike Aicantar, his words dripped with his allegiance.

The atmosphere at the table shifted tensley, if Estomor had not noticed Aicantar’s frustration before he surely would have now. Larina wondered if they were going to argue, looking over her shoulder as they began murmuring in altermis. Whatever they had to say to one another clearly was not meant for her to hear. Catching Mina’s eye, she saw the khajiit turn to speak to her aunt before turning back to her and gesturing for Larina to join them. 

Taking it as an opportunity for escape, Larina excused herself from the table, casting Calcelmo an awkward look before leaving them. With her back to their table she heard their volume increase slightly and she wondered what they were saying. 

Larina slid into a seat next to Mina with a smile, setting her notebook onto the table before her. For a moment before, she had thought to add a sketch of Estormo to her collection, until the conversation shifted. As Mina began filling her in on her day in the laboratory, how she had found a dead rat amongst a box of papers, 

“For one of the smartest scholars in all of Tamriel, he certainly doesn’t know a thing about organising” she had joked, and Aicantar briefly joining them for some tea before returning to his laboratory, it had not appeared she had missed much at all. 

Finally reacting to her niece's presence at the table, her aunt refilled Larina’s glass of wine and asked, 

“So how was your walk with Thonar?” how had  _ she _ found out as well, evidently news travelled fast in the Keep, by the smirk on Kerah’s face she evidently knew too. Apart from the Justiciar, the only other people she had told were Calcelmo and Mina that morning, she doubted they would run to tell her aunt the information, what would they gain from it. Either Thonar had bragged about it himself, she wouldn’t put it past him, or someone had spotted them and informed her. 

Accepting her glass of wine, Larina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, before answering,

“Quite pleasant before the rain came, it was nice to get out of the Keep” it wasn’t a lie, but the look that Daciana and Kerah shared between themselves unnerved her. 

“The Jarl asked me if it was a good idea to allow you to walk around the city with him, I told Igmund you were a grown woman and Thonar would be able to protect you if a risk arose” her aunt smirked, sipping her wine. “You are spending a lot of time with him my dear, is there anything to tell us?”. Larina knew she meant herself and Kerah, the redguard had bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Mina looked uncomfortable at her being mocked but remained silent. 

Larina bit her lip too, stifling the words she wanted to shout at her aunt but couldn’t. Breaking her gaze from her aunt’s, she noticed that the Justiciar was heading for their table: she hoped he would join them in conversation, until he passed them for the table, laden with drinks and refilled his glass with brandy. Even with his lateness he was keeping pace with Daciana’s drinking, she knew its effects did not hit the elves as fast as it did their human counterparts, but she had not seen him drink this much before. She had subtly kept her gaze on him as he passed, hoping that he would meet it, but he had continued to stare ahead. After refilling his glass he had joined the other mer at their separate table, the look on Aicantar’s face suggested they were still arguing. 

“Larina quite enjoyed her afternoon with you today Thonar, I didn’t realise the walls were  _ that _ interesting, perhaps you’ll have more company in the future” her aunt’s words pulled her out of her distraction, she hadn’t even noticed that Thonar had joined them at their table. 

“I am glad you enjoyed it Larina, after all not everything worth seeing in Markarth is within these walls” at his words Thonar slid into an empty seat a few across from Mina and opposite her, he hadn’t even looked at her with his response, his gaze unbreaking from Daciana’s. She uncomfortably felt like a puppeted piece of their game. 

Hoping to lift her spirits, Mina asked, 

“Will you be able to work on my painting soon?” she smiled with a purr and Larina was happy for the distraction. 

“ _ Yes _ , I think I’ll only need a few more days to work on Liesel’s portrait and then I can start with you...actually since my sketch pad is here I can start a few rough ideas now” she didn’t guide Mina to pose, simply letting her remain as natural as possible. If her aunt was annoyed by her niece's behaviour, she remained silent. 

The table descended into differing groups of conversation, Kerah and Thonar discussing their business whilst Daciana feigned interest and Mina began to inform her about the bathing room. 

“I heard from Calcelmo that your aunt had picked some designs for the washing rooms from samples and had disregarded the others. But I managed to speak to Calcelmo and we retrieved the leftover ones, I would've spoken to the Jarl’s advisor myself but -” Mina lowered her voice to a whisper, “I really don’t think he likes me”. 

Reassuring her with a slight smile, Larina responded, “I don’t think he likes anyone apart from my uncle, don’t worry about it too much.”. 

Content with her response, the khajiit added, 

“I brought them to that little room you mentioned, it's a shame it isn’t in use, I looked at the balcony and it's rather large and the views of the Reach are quite pleasant, do you have any ideas?”.

Larina shook her head, 

“Perhaps when I see what’s been left behind I might get an idea”. 

Their pleasant conversation had suddenly come to a halt by the sound of a loud  _ smash _ . The unmistakable sound of glass breaking against stone. Broken glasses were not uncommon within the Keep but it wasn’t what had brought the conversations of the room to a deathly silence. Her aunt was looking past her shoulder, a strange expression of concern on her face. Turning to see, Larina saw that Estormo had risen from the table, leaning forward on his arms and angrily shouting in altmeris. The glass lay broken beside his chair. Instantly at his words, Aicantar rose too, his face rippling with anger and snarled something equally charged back. Quickly reacting to his words, his uncle had risen to his feet and tried to pull his nephew back by his shoulder.  _ What on Tamriel _ was going on? Turning back to her table, Larina saw those she was sitting with continuing to watch in concern, rather than gossiping about the dramatics unfolding before them. Perhaps sensing the attention of the court, Larina watched when she turned back around as the Justiciar stepped towards Estormo and grabbed him by the shoulder. As he spoke into his ear, his gaze rose and met hers and her cheeks instantly flushed red.  _ Perhaps he was just generally looking in this area, not necessarily at you _ . At his words Estormo offered a short, sharp bow before marching out of the room. Calcelmo stepped towards the Justiciar, speaking to him briefly, before forcing Aicantar to sit back down. The conversation of the court began again slowly, and Larina heard her aunt murmuring with Kerah about what could possibly have happened. With his back towards her, Corrilian crossed into the centre of the room to regard the ceiling, sipping slowly at his drink, leaving the other mer to some privacy.

Exhaling a shaky breath Mina admitted, 

“That certainly made me jump, perhaps we should take a turn around the room to settle my nerves?” she rose from her chair and shot Larina a look. Nodding, she rose with her and linked arms as they slowly began to walk. 

Waiting until they were out of earshot of her aunt, Larina asked, 

“Do you understand altmeris Mina? Could you hear what they said?” her curisoity had gotten the better of her. 

Mina nodded, 

“Yes, well enough as needed, that’s why I wanted to pull you away. I think the agent said something about my friends that upset Aicantar greatly. I could not distinguish what he said in return, but Estormo said something about  _ real _ honour and I wanted to find out” she realised the direction the khajiit was dragging her in was towards their table. 

Hoping to pull her in the other direction, Larina begged, 

“I really don’t think this is a good idea Mina, we should leave them to some privacy” the angry look upon Aicantar’s face unsettled her. 

“Then you continue walking and I’ll catch up with you” Mina huffed, unlinking her arm and leaving her to join their table. Larina reluctantly continued ahead.

  
  
  


As she continued her circling walk around the room, she realised that the Justiciar was still staring at the ceiling, she had hoped he might have noticed her approaching and returned to the table or joined her uncle. There was no way she could stop and return to the table herself now, it would look too strange. She would simply pass him, stop momentarily to smile for appearances, and finish her walk as quickly and steadily as possible unless Mina caught her up. But in the back of her mind she knew that she had to speak to him. As she began to close the distance between them, she noticed that her hands had begun to shake slightly, she drained the rest of her wine hoping it would provide her with some feeling of support. 

Sensing her approach, the Justiciar dropped his gaze to her, his face remaining unchanged. Standing more than an arm’s distance away, Larina looked up to the ceiling and stammered out, 

“Its beauty still remains so impressive, no matter how often you see it” but her words remained unanswered, instead he took another sip of his brandy. She was glad she had stammered that part, her argument already building in her mind and she wanted to deliver it so unblemished.

“I won't ask what  _ that _ was about, it really isn’t my business” it was a half-truth, she knew whatever Mina had gleaned from the other mer she would tell her about tomorrow, and so there was no need to ask him. She hoped in not doing so she would appear less inclined to gossip. In the back of her mind she was desperate for his touch again. “I wanted to talk about this afternoon” Larina murmured, the faint hint of nervousness still lingered. Corrilian still remained silent but snapped his gaze to hers. 

“I don’t regret whatever was going to happen, but I do worry that we could have been caught…” she did not know what else to say, her words implying that despite her fear she wanted him to try again. 

“It was a foolish lapse in judgement that won’t be repeated” the cold tone he used on Joric was now used on her, she felt her stomach drop at her own stupidity. 

“These things happen when there is nothing better to do in such a wretched place, I would never usually stoop to such a level, especially with a  _ human _ . Like in all men these temptations are expected, but I wouldn’t drop my standards especially as such as superiorly bred mer” at his words he drained the last of his glass before brushing past her to refill it. The tears that pricked at her eyes prevented her from returning to the table, and she couldn’t be the second person to leave the room dramatically. She watched as Mina left the two mer and rejoined her aunt at her table, picking up her pace quickly, Larina rejoined them too, hoping to have blinked away her tears. 

Settling into a seat beside Mina again, the khajiit quickly looked her over and sensed her upset, but said nothing. 

“So did you find out from the Justiciar what happened?” Thonar drawled, before adding, “you take after your aunt in curiosity after all”.

Larina shook her head and lied, “he said it had nothing to do with me” hoping that if they noticed she was upset they would attribute it to that. 

“At least Mina was able to tell us something, apparently the agent insulted Aicantar” her aunt smirked, and Larina wondered why her aunt would find that entertaining. Not long after Mina murmured and informed her

“The Justiciar has left before Calcelmo and Aicantar, this must be more serious than I thought”

Larina remained silent, wondering if the clash between the two mer had affected his mood too. Hoping not to focus on the Justiciar’s words, Larina returned to sketching Mina’s profile, only joining in the conversations around her briefly. 

After a while, Mina sat up with a stretch and declared, 

“I think it's time to leave you all for bed, would you like to walk back with me Larina?” and she nodded at the khajiit’s words, happy at an excuse to leave. 

Waiting until they were alone together in the halls, Mina asked, 

“Did the Justiciar really tell you it was none of your business?” Larina nodded, lying again. She couldn’t exactly tell her friend about her almost kiss, how he thought back on it differently to her. “Were Aicantar and Estormo really arguing about your friends?” she asked. 

“Yes, I think Estormo said it wouldn’t exactly hinder his work if they didn’t return” if his words about her friends upset her too she did not show it. 

Pausing outside the door to Larina’s room, Mina informed her, 

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow” she said with a sly grin, “you look like you need to get some rest”. Larina nodded, she was feeling pretty exhausted. Stopping before the door to her room, Mina looked up and down the hall before murmuring,

“As your friend please take my advice, outside of the laboratory try to spend less time with the altmer, people might get suspicious”, before entering the door to her room. 

Leaving her alone in the darkened hallway, Larina pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned softly. What had she meant, why would the court be suspicious of her spending time with them? She had started working with Calcelmo only a year after arriving in the city, spending time with him was hardly suspicious: there was a hidden meaning to her words, but she felt the sincerity was not a lie. 

Stepping into her own room, she felt something was instantly  _ wrong _ . Lingering by the door she slowly realised that the candles near her bed had been extinguished and the door to her balcony was slightly ajar.  _ Someone _ was in her room. Larina reached for the closest thing to her on her table, cursing herself for not leaving her hairpin in her hair from earlier and nervously called out, 

“I  _ know _ you're there, by the gods what do you think you’re playing at?” if she had hoped to sound unfrightened it hadn’t worked. 

“Do you really think you can fend me off with a…  _ vase _ ?” Corrilian drawled and as he stepped into the light she realised he was smirking. Now out of the darkness she slowly took him in, considerably underdressed compared to earlier. Minus his jacket and his boots, her gaze rose from his bare feet on her stone floor to the fact that his shirt barely buttoned, exposing most of his chest. Feeling her gaze on him, he ran his hand through his hair, causing a few tendrils to fall over his shoulder. In his other hand he held another filled glass of brandy. 

“ _ Get out _ ” she snapped, her anger tangible. He was right, she was holding the small, square vase from her table and she clung to it tightly, resisting the urge to launch it at him. “If anyone were to catch us they might think you would want to debase yourself with someone as inferior as  _ me _ ”. Her anger caused hot tears to prick her eyes again. 

Corrilian winced at her words, 

“I had not meant to speak so bluntly” he sighed, rubbing his temple.

“But you were telling the truth….” Larina brushed away her eyes, angry that her tears revealed how upset she was. “I am sure your dislike of Drulis extends to all of his race? And your hatred of the court is certainly more than the fact that you dislike the city”. If she was wrong he did not tell her so. Turning on his heel, he walked towards the door of her balcony: when he realised she did not follow, he turned to her and spoke,

“Come”. 

She wanted to shout at him and tell him how much he had hurt her, doubtful that her neighbours would hear through the thick stone but reluctantly found herself following after, stopping to grab her shawl that hung over the edge of her bed before joining him on the balcony. 

He was leaning on the wall, tendrils of hair falling over one shoulder and obscuring his face slightly. She was sure even in the moonlight he was beautiful. 

Drawing her shawl tightly around her, Larina finally spoke, 

“What do you want Corrilian?” and watched as again he drained his glass. For a moment it appeared that he did not register she was there, looking intently on its emptiness before slowly pushing it off the edge of the wall: falling through the endless chasm below she knew they would not hear it smash. 

“What on earth are you doing?” she stepped closer to him, “are you drunk?” at her words he scoffed and rolled his eyes before replying with the shake of his head. 

“I don’t know what has gotten into you but I want you to leave, we can just pretend that this afternoon never happened” his erraticness was beginning to unnerve her. 

Before she had a chance to stop him, Corrilian grabbed her by the crook of her arm, pulling her to him. Again his hand tilted her chin upwards but definitely she leant back as far as she could from him. Her actions causing him to smirk. 

“I assumed you might have wanted me to kiss you properly” at his words Larina stomped on his barefoot, his pain causing him to relinquish his grip on her. 

“I’m your  _ inferior, r _ emember…” her anger returning to her words, as much as she wanted him to kiss her, she did not want him to ignore her. 

“And yet I can’t stop thinking about you” his words caused her stomach to flip, as he returned to leaning on the wall. 

“It’s like you said” Larina sighed, “there’s nothing else to occupy your thoughts in the city, if you were anywhere else in Skyrim I doubt you would feel that way”. 

“You would still distract me” he drawled, almost distracting her from her anger. 

Joining him at his side, she asked, 

“Would you superiors not be angered by your behaviour?”. 

Corrilian shook his head, “they ignore these sorts of indiscretions so long as it does not affect our work”. 

“Even with those inferior to you?” she asked and he did not respond. 

As she looked upon his face she realised he looked troubled. 

“These feelings are probably nothing after all you’ve barely been in the city a month…” she could not finish her sentence before her interrupted. 

“You did not answer me before…” as she thought on what he meant it suddenly dawned on her, her need silencing the voice at the back of her mind warning her that he was ignoring her questions, and Larina nodded. 

She had barely moved her head before he had bridged that gap again, tilting his head up to her and kissing her before they had a chance to be interrupted again. For a moment she panicked in her lack of experience, it did not compare with the quick, chaste kisses with farm boys when she was younger, but if she was doing it wrong he said nothing. Larina was vaguely aware of his hand on the small of her back, pushing her body against his and insinctly her hand grabbed his waist, tightly. At her action his mouth parted her own lips, and his tongue darted inside, at first gently until his hunger got the better of him.

The hand on her back rose to her hair and tightened in handfuls of it, but not enough to hurt her. His tongue left hers, flicking the top of her lip before gently sinking his teeth into her lower lip. It was harsh enough to cause her to whimper, causing her own affect on him. The hand that held her chin sunk to her throat, and his thumb pressed against the side of her neck; he was gentle at first, until her body began to lazily react, tilting her head further back and exposing more of her skin. The hand in her hair tightened again and Corrilian pulled his mouth away from hers, causing her to whimper again in its absence, she felt him smirk as his lips met her jawline: he kissed her softly before dipping his head, planting a trail of kisses against her neck, breaking each one with the graze of his teeth. 

Corrilian pulled his mouth away, letting her catch her breath. He untangled his hand from her hair and rested his chin on the top of her head. 

His hand relinquished its clasp of her throat and returned to her back, holding her against him. Larina raised her own hand and rested it against the cool skin of his chest. She could hear him release his own ragged breath. 

“Your shaking….are you cold?” she hadn’t realised her body trembled until he mentioned it, her head still spinning. 

“No, not really...it's just -” at her pause she felt the weight of his head disappear as he pulled her back and lifted her chin to meet her gaze with his own. Raising an eyebrow he encouraged her to continue. 

“I….I haven’t been kissed like that before” she awkwardly stammered at her own innocence, wondering how she looked compared to his calm facade. 

That sly smirk returned to his face again, 

“I had gathered” for a moment he looked lost in thought before he asked,

“Have you -” Larina guessed what he was going to say and answered him with the shake of her head, saving them both from him finishing the sentence. 

Distracting him, Larina’s hand on his chest traced the line of the jagged scar that led from his collar bone to his sternum. Its mark still raised and reddish. 

“Did this happen during your attack at Falkreath?” Corrilian nodded, regarding her concern. 

“This couldn’t have been from a blade…” she raised her eyebrow, hoping he would tell her but he remained silent. If his hand could wander freely so could hers, and her hand dipped below the collar of his tunic, tracing his old scars. 

“And these…?” his grasp was suddenly on her wrist, pulling it firmly and gently away. 

“Not tonight…” he responded, before guiding her back into her room, closing the door to her balcony behind them. 

“How can the rest of the Keep willingly close themselves off from such views, are they really blind to such beauty?” he murmured, knowing she had found herself often thinking the same thing. He left her lingering by the side of her bed, pausing in the middle of her room. 

Running his hand through his hair, Corrilian softly asked, 

“Come see me tomorrow afternoon, there may be a way I can reward your subservience without revealing your allegiance to me…” she was confused by what he meant, but her gaze settled on the book on her nightstand. 

“Being able to read these poems would be nice, especially if the first two are anything to go by” 

She heard the sound of him laughing lightly before he replied, 

“I had something  _ else _ in mind”.

Corrilian turned on his heel and left her where she stood, with no other word or a backward glance: for a moment she watched him check the hall before he was gone, gently closing the door to her room behind him. 

Still standing by the edge of her bed, Larina caught herself whispering “ _ good night _ ”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took almost 90,000 words to get them to finally kiss, I am sorry! Can you imagine how long it will take before they do anything else heh! I did say this was a slow burn but oh my it is slow! Hopefully this reads well as well as I'm more used to writing battles scenes than smooches ;w; hope you all enjoy~ I will reply to messages later as I have written through the night and the sun is quite literally about to rise D:


	29. The Students Return

The chattering of birds awoke her that morning, and even when she blearily opened her eyes Larina knew it was still too early to rise. Even after kicking off her blankets she was still uncomfortable warm; shuffling out of her bed and into some slippers, she quickly opened her balcony door before falling back onto her bed. Despite their noise, the birdsong was pleasant, and when the cool Reach air finally brushed her skin, she finally felt less like peeling her skin off. Larina buried her face in her pillow, hoping that it would smother out some of the early morning light and allow her another hour or so’s sleep. But now she was awake and she could not chase after it. Still, she remained face down in her pillow, her mind swirling with the memories of the night before; there was still so much she was unsure of. 

He had not addressed her concerns, and in the back of her mind she worried slightly that he did not care, perhaps she was just his current interest. But surely his interactions with her also threatened his position as well? What was it he had said “ _they ignore these sorts of indiscretions so long as it does not affect our work_ ” Larina wondered how many indiscretions he had had - she would be foolish to think she was the first. Yet she could not shake that feeling of jealousy. Tentatively she brushed her bottom lip with her fingers, somewhat disappointed that he had not left a mark to prove to her that their kiss had really happened. It compared nothing to the silly little kisses she had experienced back home: she didn’t chase after the boys, she just hated being teased about her innocence. Of course the boys never said no, until she was caught once by her brother who had dragged her crying partner back home and they avoided her like the plague. Larina turned over and sat up, hugging her knees and thought of her brother: she wondered how he would have reacted to someone like Corrilian. Or to this situation at all. 

He had asked her to visit him this afternoon but for what, she wondered what he had really meant by different forms of reward. She imagined herself locked in his office, trapped in his arms again with the guards dangerously close outside. She ran her own hands through her hair imagining they were his, the hungry tug of his teeth on her lips. At her memory of it she began to feel a strange sensation pooling between her legs. Laughing slightly to herself she doubted that Thonar could ever make her feel like this, no matter how much money, freedom or threats he launched her way. 

She wondered if their kiss would change how the Justiciar wanted her to react around Thonar, but the sensible voice in her brain pulled itself to the front again, causing her to question herself. 

_ He never answered if he thought you were inferior, he treats you no better than his wolves _ . Larina rested her chin on her knee, knowing that that little voice was right. But if he requested her presence again to discuss then it gave her the opportunity to bargain: she did as she was told because she thought it was polite, but with the way he regarded her when he instructed her what to do clearly enticed him. Trust the gods to throw her in the direction of an unusual relationship, still her mind returned to the idea of bargaining. Forcing his promise of helping her leave the city, but he could say he had already made that promise, so what else? Her gaze drifted to the book of poetry on her nightstand, his mother’s, and remembered his reaction to discovering that sketch by her. It was the most amount of emotion she had seen him express, perhaps that was something she could bargain with. He knew all about her tragic past so why couldn’t he share some of his? 

Rising from her bed, Larina dressed slowly, happy to return to her comfortable tunic and kirtle. Washing her face she regarded her hair in the looking glass, perhaps it was the frizz or messiness from fidgeting in her sleep but she knew she should probably clean it tomorrow. For today at least she would wear it up in a loose bun. Fetching the Justciar’s poetry book, Larina took it and settled onto her cushion on her balcony; watching the early morning rain and keeping an ear out for Voada’s knock, slowly reading through the two translated poems. When she eventually answered the door to the older Breton, her awakened appearance startled her. 

“You’re up quite early my dear” Voada cast a look of concern and Larina reassured her with a smile. 

“It was too warm last night, It made me restless” even with the cool breeze of the rainfall, the air still remained close. “I think we are overdue for a storm” Larina mused. 

Handing her her breakfast tray, Voada replied, 

“There is definitely something on the horizon” Larina caught her intention and rolled her eyes, knowing the older Breton worried of some encroaching doom, prophesied by tea leaves. 

“I am sure it's just a storm Voada” Larina sighed before closing the door too. Sometimes her inclination towards the darker magicks concerned her. 

Larina had barely a chance to settle down with her tray, already planning to return to the balcony, before she was interrupted with another knock at the door. She wondered if Voada had forgotten some food or ill omen, only to find a rather excited Khajiit waiting for her. 

“I wanted to wait until you received your breakfast, but would you like to come eat in the parlour room, perhaps in the morning light we can plan some ideas?” Larina was sure no one had yet properly cleaned it, but the idea of some breakfast company was pleasant enough to her, hoping it would distract her wandering mind. 

As Mina held both sets of doors for her, Larina set her breakfast tray down on the table next to Mina’s, she was right about it being dirty. Mina had already turned on the dwemer lights and opened one of the balcony doors, the artificial light contrasting with its natural companion. Despite the fact Larina knew they had their work cut out for them, she had to admit the room was perfect. Retrieving her apple from her tray, Larina bit into it as she prodded a roll of fabric left next to the unlit hearth. Noticing her tilted head, Mina explained, 

“The thinner fabrics are tapestries and the thicker ones rugs, not many of the colours match though”. Larina smiled, she had clearly been busy this morning. 

“I unravelled them only to see, but I don’t think the rugs are long enough to cover all the stone floor, of course the floor will need to be swept and mopped”. Larina had remembered the Justiciar’s bare feet on her floor, wondering if its coolness had bothered him. She wondered if perhaps it was a sensation he enjoyed. 

“It sounds like you already have a plan in mind” Larina joked, stepping forward to examine the second alcove, slightly larger than the first. 

“Some of this reminds me of home” Mina smiled, and Larina’s curiosity piqued as she encouraged her to continue. 

“Large cushions on the floor, candlelight and tapestries” she described them with fond nostalgia, “not all of my family were keen in travelling in caravans, some stayed in more permanent residences, but they had decorations like these”. Larina thought of her own little cushion on her balcony, that Endon had brought back from his journey and she had convinced him to let her buy it. 

Thinking for a moment, Larina responded, 

“Perhaps this first room by the hearth can hold an alchemy and enchanting desk, maybe some shelves too, then perhaps in this second room the rugs and tapestries? A little desk for me with natural sunlight would be perfect” and Mina nodded at her words. 

“Bigger cushions would nice to recline on”

Returning to her tray, Larina encouraged Mina to bring hers with her so they could eat together on the balcony. She was glad there was a largish table with chairs, even if it was strewn with leaves and dirt. As they settled into their seats and the early morning sun dawned on her Khajiit friend, Larina regretted not bringing her sketch pad with her, at least she had tonight to work on it again. 

For a moment they ate in silence, enjoying the view, until Larina’s brain ticked over the night before and she found herself asking. 

“You said you were going to divulge what happened last night” Larina grinned, as Mina paused for a moment to swallow her food. 

“Ah yes, what did I leave out” returning her grin, enjoying the moment to share in some gossip. 

“You said they’d argued about honour...and your friends, but what bit angered Aicantar, I’d never seen him lose his temper like that” she thought of her friend’s foolishness wondering if it would get him into trouble. 

“Well Calcelmo told me it began with an argument over the College that they had attended, he said  _ you _ were there for that part” Mina purred. 

“Well all I learnt was that the college that Aicantar and Corrilian studied together came under the control of the Dominion, the conversation turned the table a little tense and then you summoned me” Larina responded, taking a sip of her tea and realising it was starting to cool. 

“ _ Ah _ alright…” the tone in Mina’s voice tilted as she cupped her own drink. “From what Calcelmo informed me, Estormo had said that it was a good thing that the college came under the control of Thalmor, said the practice of magick should be restricted to those superior enough to study and wield it properly” Larina noted a slight hint of annoyance in her words, but Mina quickly covered it. 

“Aicantar challenged him on that belief, comparing it to other colleges across Tamriel and to  _ us _ as well, saying surely we had proven to him our magickal capabilities when he had to follow us students, apparently we’re an exception not anything common” Larina wondered how much that must have stung Mina, wondering if she had heard it before in her life. Perhaps if her father had lived and she had followed in his footsteps, Estormo’s arcane way of thinking would anger her as well.

“Estormo stood by his argument, saying that as far as he was considered we were just simple mages, if my friends were to die raiding the camps it would make no difference to the college, no one of significance would be lost.

Evidently your friend doesn’t agree with the Thalmor on their opinions of racial superiority, stating that our work in the ruins proved that as much. How the worst thing to happen to his college was the Thalmor taking over. 

Apparently that angered Estoromo who declared that superior mages such as the Justiciar shouldn’t have to interact with inferior spellcasters” Larina remembered him launching to his feet in such anger, surely that couldn’t have been what tipped him over the edge. 

For a moment Mina paused, as if thinking about what she was going to reveal, 

“Calcelmo said his nephew should never have said it, but Aicantar spat back at him that the Justiciar is hardly a superior mage when he was excluded from the college before finishing his studies” at her words Larina’s eyes widened, wondering what he could have done that elicited that result. 

“That’s when Estormo rose to his feet shouting that Aicantar was jealous from being stuck in a laboratory all day, of how he was attempting to sully the Justiciar’s honour” Mina continued, “which was when Aicantar shouted back that if Estormo really wanted to know about  _ true _ honour, he should ask Corrilian’s father. That’s when the Justiciar stepped in and forced Estormo to apologise for his outburst and dismissed him and Calcelmo attempted to get his nephew to apologise but neither of them were interested” Mina sipped her drink, her nose wrinkling slightly when she realised it had grown cold. 

“Did he not elaborate on what he meant?” Larina asked, only to be met with a shaken head. All those mentions of Corrilian’s dangerous nature by Aicantar, and his pointed words about Corrilian’s father, did his father have a hand in it? 

Leaning back in her chair, Larina sighed, 

“Well it's a good thing the court doesn’t speak altmeris, they will be gossiping about this for a few days but it would certainly be worse if they knew what had truly been said” and Mina nodded at her words, picking at a piece of bread. With the weight of Mina’s revelation on them, they finished their breakfasts in silence and left room to leave their trays in the hallway. 

“The idea of large cushions and scented smokes sounds lovely by the way Mina” Larina spoke as they both headed towards the laboratory, “do you think it would make you feel like home?”. 

Mina shook her head, “nothing could”. 

If the outburst last night had affected him in any way, Calcelmo did not show it, instead he was already deep in his work - unaware that they had joined him until Larina cleared her throat. 

“I’m going to make a cup of tea” Mina sighed, evidently disappointed that she was unable to finish her one from breakfast. Whilst the Khajiit rummaged around for three clean cups, heating the leaves and water at the alchemy table, Larina slid into an empty chair at Calcelmo’s desk. When he looked up at her, taking in her expression, she knew he was aware of what she was thinking. 

“He’s not here” Calcelmo muttered, setting down his quill.

“Just like the last few days at Calcelmo, what has gotten into him? He isn’t normally like this, that girl can’t be what’s causing this reaction” Larina pried. 

“He is taking his project very seriously Larina, I am sure once he is complete and he rests he will be back to his normal self” the older mer deflected and although she took it as a non-answer, Larina said nothing. 

Once Mina handed her a cup of hot tea, Larina returned to her own desk to continue some of her sketches. She had forgotten her paints and wondered if she could be bothered to return to her room to fetch them. She sketched idyll for a while, flicking her glance between her work, the door or Mina’s rearrangement of Calcelmo’s shelves as she muttered to herself. With everything rattling through her brain she could not concentrate. Waiting for her tea to cool and slowly savouring it to take more time, Larina rose from her chair and informed the room,

“I’m just returning to my room to fetch my paints, If these sketches are going to be sent off they need to look perfect” at her words no one looked up. Knowing they were too busy focused on their work helped her not feel too upset. As she left into the entrance of the Keep, Larina noticed that more guards were gathered there than usual, as she continued towards her room she brushed it off, assuming they were here to inform her uncle about tensions in the Reach. 

Entering her room and retrieving her paints, Larina remembered Voada’s words from that morning.  _ Something is on the horizon _ , the thought made the hairs on her arms stand up. Shaking her head Larina chided herself for allowing herself to be scared by the thought. 

Paints now in hand Larina headed for the laboratory, hoping that her short walk might have dusted away her malaise and give her the motivation to return to work. But she didn’t have to round the corner to discover the presence of Markarthian guards had doubled: Noticing Aicantar frantically talking to one of them, looking again like he’d endured another sleepless night, Larina called to him. When he did not respond, Larina headed towards him, grabbing his arm for attention, when his gaze met hers she noticed it was frantic and scared. 

Gesturing to the commotion around her, Aicantar answered her confused look,

“Fetch my uncle and bring him to the throne room, the students have returned”. 

It took a moment for the words to register in her mind, before Larina rushed as quickly as she could up the stone stairs to the laboratory. This time not needing to clear her throat to gain Calcelmo’s attention. Almost dropping her paints onto her desk, Larina tried to catch her breath to explain: she wondered if the expression on her face had mirrored Aicantar’s as they quickly joined her at her side. 

“The students have returned from the bandit camps” she finally breathed out, her words dawning on her. They had only been gone a few days, if they had returned so soon they couldn’t be complete - Larina dared not think of the worse possibility. 

Her breath slowly returning Larina continued, 

“Aicantar says we have to go to the throne room” and she wondered how they both remained so calm whilst her concern began to grow. Calcelmo nodded and began heading out of the laboratory, Larina and Mina slowly following after him in steady silence. 

When they reached the throne room they found a small crowd had already gathered as a guard began addressing the room. 

“They have set up camp at the cleared Kolskeggr mine and refuse to come any further” the soldier declared, “not that we would have let them into the city my Jarl” he added. For once her uncle was sat upright on his throne, a look of uncomfortable seriousness on his face as he asked,

“How long have they been back?”. 

“Not long after sunrise…” Larina looked around the crowd that had gathered, like usual her uncle was accompanied by his housecarl and steward, as usual Thongvor was present but this time accompanied by his brother and Endon who appeared to be muttering amongst themselves. She was surprised to see the Imperial Legate present with a few of his men, talking with the Justiciar and Estormo. For a brief moment Corrilian caught her gaze and Larina flashed him a weak smile expected no response, only to receive a small nod in return. As the people in the room began to argue amongst themselves over what they should do, Larina felt a paw tugging gently at her arm. 

“If they’re refusing to approach the city that must mean -” sensing the fear in her voice, Larina interrupted, 

“We don’t know for sure…” hoping to reassure the Khajiit and herself. 

“Might I make a suggestion…” the Justiciar calm voice bringing them to a silence. Her uncle gestured for him to speak. 

“The students have taken the steps to isolate themselves which is good, but I hardly think that sending them on their way or killing them is going to help” Larina felt Mina’s grip on her arm tighten. 

“I suggest we send a small group to meet them, find out what has happened and investigate” at his words the room began to erupt again, arguing about the danger of meeting them and spreading the disease. Her fears were true, someone in the group had been infected. 

“Stop this madness!” Larina had never heard Calcelmo raise his voice before, let alone shout, its commanding authority stunning themselves into silence again. 

“The Justiciar is right, we cannot make a decision until we understand the situation fully. I suggest a small group of guards, my nephew and myself with the assistance of Mina-dir meet them at the road and find out what is going on. The boy may not be infected, simply sick. But if he  _ is _ infected the guards will remain to prevent them approaching the city and alleviating your concerns” Larina watched as her uncle nodded in agreement, noticing the Justiciar and Legate talking amongst themselves. 

“Myself and some of the Legate’s men will also accompany them” Corrilian stepped forward and added, “as the Legate has rightfully informed me, if this disease is as worse as we think, there is a possibility it could spread past the Reach”. For a moment Calcelmo paused before nodding in agreement, accepting the Justiciar’s support. Accompanied by two imperial soldiers, Corrilian followed Calcelmo and his nephew out of his room: Larina felt Mina relinquish her grip on her arm, flashing her a fraught look before rushing after them. Now standing on her own, Larina began to feel her hands shake, and she looked around the room before catching her uncle’s eyes. From the look on her face he knew what she was about to do, shaking his head Igmund slowly began to rise out of his seat. For a moment Larina clenched her hands before running after them. 

They weren’t going to leave her behind this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted chapter 29 and 30 to be one big chapter but I'm too tired I'm afraid ;w; instead you will have two chapters tomorrow!   
> In the meantime I have written a little drabble under the fanfic title "Let the Ocean take Me". At the moment there will be four mini chapters about Corrilian's past before somethings are revealed in the future. If you want to see why Corrilian is the way he is maybe check it out? Or feel free to wait until that reveal :D


	30. Outside of the Walls

“By the gods _no_ , you can’t be seriously Larina” even amongst his fear, Aicantar’s anger was not restrained, he looked around at the rest of the group hoping they would back him to no avail. For once Larina was nervous that they were on her side. 

“You know I can help in some way, if you trust me enough in the laboratory why not this? I’ll keep my distance just as much as you” at her words, Aicantar shot his uncle in another look of frustration and was met with a half shrug. 

“I will bring my sketch journal and sketch the infected, if you can’t return to the site I am sure they will be useful as a study” Larina had only thought of the idea when rushing after them, hoping it was enough to convince them. 

Finally drawn to a silence, Aicantar stormed back towards the laboratory muttering under his breath in altermis, for a moment Calcelmo hesitated before heading after his nephew, an action that surprised her. 

“I think that Calcelmo might need some assistance in deciding what to bring, as a healer I think he may have somethings you might find useful” Mina read between the lines of the Justiciar’s drawl and took her queue to leave. Once he had dismissed the imperial guards to organise which of Markarth guards would join them, Larina was finally alone with him in the inner sanctum. 

“Do you think this is a good idea?” he murmured, yet no hint of concern showed. Larina nodded, unable to summon something intelligent to say, wondering if she was making a mistake. 

“I think it would be best for you to change, perhaps something less fine that could be thrown away if contaminated” it was a sensible idea, but in the back of her mind Larina worried that he was making an excuse to get her to leave only to be abandoned. After a brief nod of his head, he headed towards the laboratory and Larina took the moment to run back to her room as quickly as possible. Even if they were going to wait for her, she didn’t want to delay them. 

Pulling her kirtle over her head and discarding it on the back of her chair, Larina kept her tunic on and retrieved the hosen that she had travelled in on her trip to Skyrim. It was hardly ladylike and in keeping with the fashions of the court, but such a long trip would have been uncomfortable in dresses: and in the back of her mind she knew she would need them again. They fit moderately well, perhaps a little too tight on the thighs, and she wondered if she had made it into the ruins whether she would’ve found them uncomfortable. Larina pulled on her old leather boots and retrieved her travelling shawl from her wardrobe: after tucking her tunic somewhat into her hosen she threw on the shawl, once it had covered her to her knees, it now just brushed below her hips. She really needed to throw away some of these older items. Fetching her satchel, Larina threw in her sketching journal and charcoal, wondering whether it was worth retrieving her paints from the laboratory as well. For a moment Larina paused before retrieving her sharpened hairpin from her jewellery box: she wasn’t under the impression that she would have been attacked, not with so many guards present but she knew she couldn’t be careful. Twist her hair into a bundle on top of her head, Larina pinned it into place before dashing back to the inner sanctum.

Red faced and breathless, she realised they were already waiting on the steps of the laboratory, but at least they had waited. In her absence she noticed the two court mages had changed into different robes, rather than long robes they were wearing dark hosen the colour of the night sky and dark tunics to match, their hands gloved. The Justiciar was still dressed similarly, all in black, but had swapped his long, heavy Thalmor robe for something shorter. A jacket still embellished in similar colours, it reached midway down his thighs, long sleeved and collared. 

Larina shifted uncomfortably on her feet for a moment before Mina gestured for her to join her at her side. 

In total their group consisted of ten people, their numbers made up by three markarthian guards and two imperial legates. The guards walked in front, followed by Calcelmo and Aicantar, Larina and Mina, the Justiciar and finally flanked by the legates. As the heavy golden doors of the entrance were opened for them, Larina blinked in the early morning sunlight, glad that the rain had so far relented. As they descended through the streets of the city, early morning market vendors began to set up their stalls, unaware of the danger that existed outside of the city walls. By the strange looks they were shooting them, she knew they were puzzled by their sight, marching along in silence. Larina was struck with a curious thought, wondering if they might recognise her as part of the city’s court, or whether dressed like this she blended in seamlessly. 

She had been so deep in her thoughts that she had not realised they had reached the city gates, already open and with half the group passing through. Without a backward glance Mina continued forward, but hard as she tried Larina found her feet stuck to the stone. _Why couldn’t she move_?

“If you’re worried there’s still time to head back” Larina felt Corrilian’s breath on the side of her neck, wondering if the imperial soldiers behind her were getting annoyed at the hold up. 

Larina shook her head and murmured back,

“It’s the first time I’ve set foot out of the city walls since my arrival” the thought finally dawned on her as she realised what had caused her pause, a mixed feeling of excitement and apprehension. Corrilian did not answer but she caught what she thought was the sound of him humming. Peering through the gate Larina saw that Mina had noticed that she was not by her side and waited for her. Did she think she was being too cowardly? Before she had a chance to will herself forward, a gentle but firm hand on her back pushed her to keep moving. 

“It was a sensible decision to wear that pin again, I have to say this look is unusually becoming for you” Corrilian drawled in her ear, his foreword pace stopping her from turning around or backtracking. 

Continuing ahead Mina tilted her head at her friend’s expression, asking her if she was okay but Larina nodded simply in silence. She was taking in life around the city walls. The dogs barking at the stables, the monstrous horses that were kept alongside the ones of the city she could only assume belonged to the Thalmor. The birdsong she had become so used to hearing on her balcony she was finally hearing outside for the first time, and the sound of running water that did not clash too harshly with the working noise of the foundry. 

For a moment she forgot where she was heading or _why_ until they passed the Left Hand mine by the side of the river. The free ground space of the community now taken up by tents. When she had arrived at the city it had been at nightfall, she had never seen any of this, but she knew the tents must have housed the displaced miners of the Reach. Who were now being kept at bay by a group of guards who were trying to calm them down.

“Do you think they know about my friends?” Mina murmured, her voice laced in apprehension but it was the Justiciar who answered, 

“Something gives me that impression”. As they watched the group pass, the sight of them caused their shouts to grow louder, as if proving that something was really wrong and Larina heard Calcelmo call that they should keep moving. With every step Larina found herself shaking more and more, hoping the others wouldn’t sense it. Whether they felt the same or not, they had managed to maintain their composure and she wanted to prove to them that letting her tag along was not a mistake. 

  
  


They descended down to the river and towards the bridge, since they had managed to clear out Karthwasten it was the sensibilest place for the group to wait. Crossing the river the group paused for a moment on the roadside, the sight of small tents and a handful of horses before them: Larina noticed that two people were lying down in the grass, unmoving. She could sense the tension in the air. Calcelmo stepped forward only a few feet and called out

“You there, are you alive?”, his voice firm and unwavering. At the sound the two men rose to their feet slowly, and Larina wondered if it was from sickness or exhaustion. As soon as they rose, Larina realised that it was Drulis and his friend. The Dunmer stepped forward a few steps only for the guards to shout at him to remain where he was. His expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. Holding his hands upwards he called out,

“It’s fine we were just resting, I’m not infected, at least I don’t think so….” Calcelmo began murmuring with the two guards beside him, Larina could not make out their words but it sounded like an argument. 

“Step to the edge of the road but no further” the older mer called out to him, using the road as a dividing line, close enough to hear him speak clearly and see him, but enough distance for protection. As Drulis and Marcurio approached the edge of the road, Larina suppressed the urge to join Calcelmo at his side. A mixture of emotions washed over her, remembering how the dunmer had made her feel when he had first arrived in the Keep: and how the the Justiciar’s behaviour had made her forget. 

  
  


Now the pair were closer to the line, Larina watched as Calcelmo looked over them carefully, calling Aicantar and Mina to join them. She assumed he was looking for signs of sickness, but she had no idea what the Afflicted looked like. 

“How do you know you’re not infected?” Calcelmo called out to him, looking the pair of them over.

“When Tholan caught it he sickened rather quickly, over a day or so, no-one else in the group has succumbed but we can’t be sure” Marcurio called back. _If you’re going to be here to assist start using that brain of yours, you can’t stand idly by waiting for the instruction to draw_. Listening to their words Larina began to think, if it had taken a day or two for their symptoms to show enough that they were sick, anyone in the camp could be sick without knowing it. How on Tamriel could they assist them? At Calcelmo’s encouragement Marcurio continued. 

“We reclaimed this area as a base point before tackling the Forsworn camp up in Karthwasten; I haven’t really cleared out camps like this before but even I was surprised to find less people there than expected. They hadn’t really put up much of a fight either…” 

“We assumed they were the ones who were too weak to continue moving on with the rest of the group, the remnants of tents left behind proved there had been many more, but gods knows where they have gone now. Those left behind still put up a fight but it wasn’t right for us to clear them out” Drulis interrupted, his face stern at his own admission. 

“It's most likely they were abandoned by the rest of the group, but by Auriel-el they could just be distributing the sickness further” Aicantar murmured. 

“That was my concern” Drulis continued, “we kind of half hoped they might have joined the rest at the Redoubt, wouldn’t make our work any easier but at least we would be able to track where they had gone” Larina was glad they were researchers first rather than mercenaries. Any man hired by the Silver-Blood’s would have killed first and assumed the work was done. 

“So how was Thonar infected?” Calcelmo called out, Larina had half assumed they might have been overpowered in the camp. 

“It was as we were riding down the trail looking for somewhere to set up camp for the night, we found a man staggering in the middle of the road, we thought he was drunk at first. Tholan had rode forward to see if he needed help, we kept telling him it was dangerous and to leave him be” Drulis explained. 

“For a moment he seemed somewhat sane, telling Tholan that he could not keep up with the group, saying there was somewhere else he needed to be, with _his_ people. Tholan had asked what he meant before he vomited all over his horse. I’ve never seen anything like” Marcurio looked repulsed “ I’ve never seen anyone vomit that far either, he was doing it deliberately to infect us. When we realised we turned horse and rode up the hill, not stopping for hours in case he had followed us up the trail. We wanted to continue until morning so we could set up somewhere safe for a camp. But then Tholan’s horse collapsed, threw him off and started fitting, that’s when we knew something was wrong” the muttering of the guards had come to a silence, listening intently to Marcurio’s words. 

“Thonja was adamant that only the horse had been infected and that Tholan was fine, reluctantly we set up camp there, some way off from the horse. When we woke in the morning it was dead. We ate quickly and decided to continue on, they wanted to head onto the next camp but me and Drulis knew that something wasn’t right. Didn’t want to charge in headfirst with one of our own potentially sick and unable to defend himself. As the day wore on we realised we were right when Tholan began acting strangely, he had paled and began muttering things that didn’t make sense”.

“We gave Thonja an ultimatum” Drulis interrupted “we would head back down to the river and set up camp there. If Tholan was only sick from tiredness or dehydration once he recovered we would ride on. We thought we would be close enough to the city to send word if things worsened but far enough to prevent a spread. As the night wore on it became evident this wasn’t sun sickness, the poor guy was vomiting up neverending amounts of green vomit, each one causing him significant pain” Larina realised that as he continued on a look of fear was growing on his face, as he added 

“Calcelmo that stuff is like _acid_ and it's burning him up inside. Even if we had a health draught to give him we can’t get close enough to help him without risking being infected.`` The poor dunmer looked devastated and Larina heard Calcelmo heave a loud sigh. 

“And the nord’s sister, Thonja, where is she?” the older mer asked, and Larina looked around the camp to see where the two siblings were, but they were hidden out of sight. 

“She’s with Tholan in his tent” Marcurio explained, “when we set up camp we kept him isolated, we originally planned to keep him on his own and leave him water and food to collect and keep ourselves separate. But he won’t eat or drink anything. Thonja won't listen to us either, she won’t leave him alone, even Tholan keeps begging her to leave”. Larina wondered what she would do if she was in Thonja’s position, would she have left her brother to suffer on his own? Calcelmo began murmuring again to his nephew before speaking to a guard briefly and sending him off on an errand. Larina wondered if he was being sent back to the court to update it. 

She watched as the Justiciar stepped forward to address the two students, the imperial soldiers joining him at his side. She wondered if she should step forward too. 

“You made a sensible decision to keep yourselves distanced from the Nord, at least there are one or two of you able to tend to the others and feed yourselves without risking the spread” Corrilian stated, 

“But there is a high chance that you too could be infected, as you said yourselves that this disease only began exhibiting its effects almost a full day after he had become infected” the two students nodded at his word and the Justiciar turned briefly to speak to Calcelmo. After a few moments Calcelmo nodded and the Justiciar addressed them again. 

“We will have to treat you as potentially infected too, you will not be permitted reentry into the city or to leave the camp” 

“We can’t be expected to stay here with them, if we wake up tomorrow with no symptoms it proves we aren’t infected, we should be allowed to leave! Any longer we could risk exposing ourselves even more” Drulis shouted back, his face wrought with anger and fear. 

“I understand that” Corrilian responded coolly, “and we will make sure to bring you provisions to keep you all comfortable whilst we try to understand this disease”. 

“The time it took Tholan to succumb may not be universal” Calcelmo interrupted, “it may vary depending on race or health, we could allow you back into the city only for you to succumb, you know we can’t risk that” Larian knew the older mer was right, but the thought of leaving them out here to their fate worried her. 

Larina watched as the two students began murmuring to each other, Drulis lent back his head and let out an exasperated sigh before nodding. 

“We’ll need health potions for ourselves as well as whatever you bring for Tholan, there must be a way to keep ourselves protected and hopefully keep it at bay”. 

Calcelmo agreed to his request, 

“We don’t have a solid plan yet, we need to confer with the court on our findings here today, but there might be some consolation in Tholan’s tragedy, please can you fetch the pair out here but make sure to keep yourself distant and remind them too” reluctantly Marcurio nodded before heading to the tent furthest from the camp: he kept his distance before calling out to them, waiting for a few moments for them to agree and emerge. Thonja had made no attempt to distance herself from her brother, supporting his weakened frame with her own body. At the sight Larina heard Aicantar’s sharp intake of breath. As they slowly made their way over to the edge of the road, she noticed a look of helplessness on Marcurcio’s face: there was no way he could help them without risking getting sick himself. 

“Is there any chance this could already be within the city walls?” Drulis asked, his hands resting on his hips. 

“So far there’s no suggestion of it” Calcelmo responded, “we would have heard so by now, especially with the camps set up outside the city walls, we would have seen it there first. But at this time of year in the Reach, colds are common, we need to know what the symptoms are for the Affliction without getting the two confused”.

The twins finally reached the edge of the road, Larina hoping that Thonja’s breathlessness was due to assisting her brother, and even with the distance between them she could see how terrible he looked. His body was covered in sweat, staining his shirt alongside bits of bile, he looked exhausted and drenched. As he gained his balance his eyes widened and gestured to his sister: at his signal she quickly took a few steps back as he vomited into the road, before sinking back onto the ground to rest. He spluttered a few times before wiping his arm on his sleeve. Thonja had quickly run to grab him some water and returned to his side. 

“You do realise you are risking your health being so close to him” Calcelmo called out, “it is certain you will catch it if you carry on” but she ignored his words. The older mer walked down the road until he was opposite the Twins before crouching down before them, the road still marking their distance. 

“Is this how the infected man vomited onto your horse?” he asked. 

Tholan shook his head and replied, 

“No, but it doesn’t look like this every time either, those projections are infrequent but worse, it's like the disease is trying to explode out of me as far possible, it burns every time I vomit but that is especially worse” he looked defeated, hunched over and leaning on his sister whose eyes shimmered with tears. 

“I’d assume that’s how the infection spreads itself, those attacks at random meaning you can know to stop yourself, causing it to spread further” Calcelmo made the disease sound like a well trained warrior and the thought of it terrified her. 

The Justiciar turned and caught Larina’s eye, beckoning for her to join him with a flick of his wrist, once she was by his side he murmured into her ear, 

“Now would be the right time to start sketching the Nord, make a note of all his presenting symptoms and if he vomits again depict it too” she wondered why she hadn’t started working before but nodding and began to step forward. 

He caught her by the elbow stopping her from moving, 

‘Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured again. 

Looking up at him in confusion Larina explained, 

“If my work is going to be used to examine the symptoms later I need to make it as accurate as possible, I need to get closer”. His grip on her arm tightened as he shook his head,

“No it's too dangerous, if being this distant will affect your work so be it, they can manage with what they get”. Annoyed, Larian shrugged out of his grip, this was her opportunity to prove herself useful to the group: she joined Calcelmo at his side and sunk into a cross-legged position beside him on the ground. The older mer opened his mouth as if to speak, until he saw her open her satchel and remove her sketching journal, balancing it on her knee. 

As Calcelmo began to ask him more information about his symptoms and how he felt, Larina quickly began sketching Tholan’s features. His skin clammy and pale, cheeks hollow and eyes lightless. It was the least flattering portrait she had ever drawn but she listened as he listed his symptoms, having to stop every so often to catch his breath. A fever like he was on fire, stomach cramps and vomiting; each one on its own was awful but combined they were terrifying. It had started out with a headache and some breathlessness, how he had assumed it was simply sun sickness, when his stomach began to ache he had mistaken it from drinking his water too fast. 

A loud call behind them alerted them that the guard that Calcelmo had sent off had returned from his errand. Confused murmurs circled the group when they saw that he had returned with two goats in tow, led on ropes. What on Tamriel was Calcelmo playing at? Rising to his feet, he gestured for Larina to follow, before retrieving the goats from the guard and bringing them over to the twins. Keeping his distance to them, Calcemo threw the ropes to Thonja and explained, 

“I need to see the effects of the vomit on living creatures, both the normal and projectile. Tholan when you know you are going to be sick, you need to do so on these”. Even in his illness the Nord shot Caclcelmo a disgusted look. 

“I can’t….it's _cruel_ ”. 

The older mer let out a large sigh before responding, 

“I know, but I need to safely know the effects of the disease so I can report back to the Jarl properly and make sure the court has the right information to work with”. Listening to the mer’s words, Thonja consoled her brother and replied, 

“He will do it, don’t worry”. 

As the hours passed by, the group waited patiently on the opposite side of the road, waiting for Tholan to be sick again. Aicantar and Calcelmo stood patiently, conversing with the Justiciar and some of the guards, whilst Mina and Larina sat down in the grass. 

“I should have been with them” Mina murmured, her voice tinged with regret. 

Larina gently squeezed her arm, hoping to reassure her, 

“You can’t do anything about that now, you have to look at the positives, you being healthy means you can assist Calcelmo in finding some way of curing this” if her words had lifted the Khajiit’s mood she did not share it. After a few moments she rose to her feet and joined Calcelmo at his side to find out how she could help, bored of sitting with nothing to do. 

Larina let back, resting on her arms and letting her hands feel the wild grass on her hands, the distant sound of birdsong and the warm sun on her face. 

“What are you thinking about?” Larina opened her eyes to squint, only to realise the Justiciar’s figure had blocked the sun to her face. He was regarding her with a strange look. 

“Honestly?” Larina sighed, “how nice it feels to be outside the city walls, which is terrible given the current situation, when I know _they_ are anxious to return to safety” referring to Marcurio and Drulis. 

Corrilian asked for her journal to look at the sketch she had made of Tholan. After a few moments of silence he finally spoke again, 

“Don’t feel ashamed in that, you don’t know when you’ll enjoy these moments again, don’t spoil them” his sudden change in tone surprised her, and perhaps it was the look of confusion on his face but he spoke again more sternly. 

“We should return to the group” he offered his hand to pull her to her feet, his strength surprising her as she was uprighted too quickly. Brushing the dirt off her hosen, she retrieved her journal from him and turned to rejoin the group. When she caught Aicantar’s gaze he shot her a look of anger. Had he been watching them? Larina wondered what he had assumed. 

“Calcelmo I think I’m going to be sick…” Larina’s ears pricked up as she heard Tholan call out. Calcelmo rushed back to his spot before the twins, Aincantar in tow gesturing for Mina to follow him but the Khajit remained where she stood. Larina wondered what had stopped her from moving. Flicking to a clean page Larina headed to join them, only to be prevented by the Justiciar’s grip again, she tried to wriggle free but his fingers tightened on her refusing to let her move. Looking upwards she noticed he tried to avoid her gaze but she continued to stare at him until he finally looked down, shooting him a look of annoyance, only to receive a small shake of his head. She hoped from her distance she would still be able to depict an accurate drawing. 

With his sister’s assistance, Tholan shakingly returned to his feet, his face a mixture of pain and distress, he really didn’t want to do this. 

“Don’t force yourself Tholan, you don’t need to pain yourself anymore than is necessary” Aicantar called out to him, his voice steady and reassuring. He barely had a chance to respond before his body was wrenched forward as he projectile vomited onto the goat. At its ferocity Aicantar and Calcelmo lept back, watching as the goat instantly collapsed and began convulsing by the side of the road. The patches of grass that were coated in vibrant green began to let off steam. 

“By Auriel-el” Larina heard the Justiciar murmur under his breath as she quickly tried to sketch, willing herself not to retch at the awful drifting sour burning smell. 

Tholan sank back into the grass, his face wrenched with exhaustion and tears, this time refusing to let his sister join him at her side. The guards had stopped their murmuring and were waiting in silence. Whatever they had all imagined about the disease, it didn’t compare to the actual sight. 

Catching Drulis’ eye, Larina stepped closer to the road and offered him a little wave. Despite the look of apprehension on his face, he flashed her a grin.

“You’re definitely a sight for sore eyes' ' he smiled, though she sensed it weighted by apprehension and exhaustion.

“Your vision must be impaired due to exhaustion” Larina joked back, “but seriously are you alright?” she furrowed her eyebrows in concern. 

Drulis ran his hand through the hair that hung over his forehead, greasy and full of dirt. “As well as I can be I suppose” he sighed, “but I’d rather not be here, we could hear Tholan crying out in pain all through the night...I don’t want to go out like this” the look of fear on his face caused her stomach to flip, the dunmer had no hesitation in showing his fear. 

“If Calcelmo is working on this I am sure he will find an answer” Larina hoped her words were right. She heard him call them all back into the group and Larina shot the dunmer a reluctant smile before rejoining them. 

“What on Tamriel are we going to do?” Aicantar sighed, his face washed with uncertainty. 

“We’ll have to return to the Keep and inform the Jarl what is going on, at least Tholan here is contained but what about the other bandit camps that may have unknown infected” the Justiciar interjected. 

“How long do you think we can keep them out here” Aicantar snapped back, “the conditions could worsen their health, might even increase the rest of the camp getting sick”. 

Resting a hand on his nephew’s shoulder to calm him, Calcelmo interjected, 

“The Justiciar is right, we will report this information to the court and make a decision, as soon as we reach the city we will send supplies for the students” and the older mer turned to address the students that had remained at the side of the road. 

“We have to return to the city, but we will send food and medication. Draughts of health for all of you and an elixir of poppy to help diminish Tholan’s pain somewhat”. It was all he could do for the time being and the students had no choice but to agree. Speaking briefly with the Justiciar in altmeris, Calcelmo commanded the four of the guards to remain with the students, overseeing them in case of any change. 

“And if they try to leave?” one of the Markathian guards asked. 

“I don’t think they will,” Calcelmo reassured him, the scoff of the guard suggesting he didn’t agree. As the group began to leave back up the hill to the city, Larina shot a glance over her shoulder to Drulis, flashing him a look of uncertain reassurance. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah it took me so long to write and edit this chapter and I still feel bad about not uploading sooner ;w; I took pages out of this one because I wanted to break it up and thought I could write two chapters and then hit a wall. I know where I want to go but need to keep moving forward ;w; Hopefully there'll be another two tomorrow and I promise I'll address your comments soon ! <3
> 
> Thanks to the lovely Wanion I have discovered how to include two pieces of the lovely fan-art LizardBrain drew for me (i referenced these on my tumblr but in case people didn't see) Check out her fanfic "The Right Place to Be" of Cicero and her bosmer dragonborn oc Lylia: she drew some pretty funny oc art of our four characters interacting including light up shoes and oversized shirts :D


	31. Old Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd try something different and rather than splitting this chapter in two, adding two little breaks rather than needing endless paragraphs of description to continue the direction Larina is heading in e.g. "she did this, then that then this"  
> Let me know in the comments whether it works or not so I can know whether to use this in the future.

They had walked the route back to the Keep in almost silence, their minds whirring over what they had seen. Larina felt strangely numb, the awful smell of Tholan’s vomit still stuck in the back of her throat. Ahead the Justiciar was talking with Calcelmo again, muttering in altermeris. She was surprised to see that Aicantar was not walking with them and looked around worried that he might have stayed behind. Realising he was walking slowly behind her, he caught her look of fear and reassured her, 

“Don’t worry I’m still here” his tone a mixture of annoyance and defeat. As they passed Left Hand Larina saw that although the guards were still present, the crowd had dispersed. It was little wonder they had been frightened, no doubt the refugees that had set up home in the community had warned them off what they had seen. As reluctant as she was to return through the city gates, the familiarity of the stone walls offered some feeling of safety from the outside and unknown. Calcelmo sent the remaining imperial soldier straight to Bothela to retrieve the potions he had promised the students, telling him to inform her that she was summoned to the Keep as soon as she had finished. 

As they walked the upward incline to the city, Larina felt Mina’s arm link with her own, even though Larina’s pace was slower. Assuming her friend wanted some form of consolation, even in their silence, Larina flashed her small smile that was returned with a weaker one. She wondered if Mina was still plagued with the idea that in some way she had betrayed her friends by not being with them and worried that she might risk her own health in her desperation to aid them. 

As desperately as she wanted to return to her room and freshen up, they were instructed to return to the throne room as soon as they reached the Keep’s doors. As they entered into the room the steward informed them to remain at the bottom of the stone stairs: as Larina looked up at her uncle, whose apprehension was visible on his face, she realised that the entire court had come to hear the news. Larina felt her aunt’s gaze rake over her appearance, hardly befitting the niece of the Jarl, but couldn’t discern the reaction on her face - assuming it was disgust as usual. 

“ _Are_ they infected?” the Jarl called down from his throne. 

“Only _one_ ,” Calcelmo informed him, “but the disease does not manifest straight away, it will take a day or two to know if the rest are infected”. 

Nodding at his words, the Jarl asked, 

“And did they manage to clear out both camps” unable to control herself Larina shook her head in annoyance. After everything they had sacrificed, _that_ was his concern. Larina felt Mina gently squeeze her arm and she bit her lip, hoping to control herself from an outburst. 

“They were only able to clear Kolskegger mine and the camps in Karthwasten, before they were ambushed” Larina wondered why he did not inform the Jarl of how most of the bandits had already moved on, was he protecting the students? 

“So where are they now?”.

“They have settled in a camp by the river near Karthwasten, they have agreed not to leave their camp but the guards that accompanied us have remained to make sure they stay where they are” at his words her uncle shifted uncomfortably on his throne. 

“So what do you suggest I do Calcelmo?” her uncle’s words rang around the room. The older mer began to ascend the stairs halfway, only for Thongvor to approach him with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The Jarl held up a hand to stay Thongvor, allowing Calcelmo to get slightly closer. 

“We monitor the situation at camp and their symptoms, working with Bothela and Mina we may be able to find some way to cure this. The longer we keep them alive, the better chance we have”. The Jarl nodded before turning to the Justiciar and asking, 

“Corilian what do you think? Combined with your reports from Falkreath”. In a few strides Corrilian ascended the staircase, standing by Calcelmo’s side. 

“I agree with your mage, we monitor the situation in the camp and use it to our advantage. The reports from Falkreath suggest they have bandit camps in their area infected, who knows how many more are in the Reach? We will have to start preparing, send out your guards to determine the source of the infection and whether any other settlements in your hold have reported sightings of those afflicted. Start making provisions for more refugees, in the next week or so we may see a spike, we cannot allow them to linger on the outskirts of the city, we use the now cleared Karthwasten as a camp for them, and perhaps consider closing down the roads temporarily”. 

“Are you _mad?_ ” Thonar called out, stepping forward to berate the Justiciar. “If we close down the roads how are we to trade with other cities, our economy would collapse” his face seethed as he made no attempt to hide his anger. 

“If half the city dies I am sure the last thing they will think about is how the city is still trading _silver_ ” the Justiciar lazily replied, though his words brought the room to silence. “For now we keep the roads open for the transportation of food, we prioritise keeping the city fed, healthy citizens do not encourage a breeding ground for disease”. Her uncle turned to the legate who had once again joined him and asked him if he agreed. 

“I do think it would be wise to act fast Jarl Igmund, but make no mistake, if this disease is as bad as we suspect I will be informing the General. We cannot risk the outbreak of a large spread disease during a Civil War”. As Larina listened intently to their words, she looked around the room at the court that was watching them, their expressions wrought in fear despite not even seeing what had happened in the camp. Catching her aunt’s gaze again she noticed Daciana had paled, perhaps in fear of the disease reaching the city. Keeping her children locked inside the Keep had kept them safe from the Forsworn and madmen, but could she keep the disease at bay?. 

“So what is our plan to start with?” the Jarl called out. 

“I would suggest we have a rotating guard watching over the students and limiting foot traffic, myself and my nephew will take turns observing and monitoring the camp, assisted by Bothela and Mina. That way we can ensure we don’t end up exhausted but not missing anything vital”. 

Her uncle nodded and replied, 

“Whatever you need my friend you have only to ask for, the sooner we are rid of this vile disease the better”. With nothing more to add, Calcelmo took at it as an opportunity to leave, the group trailing after him towards the laboratory. No doubt he already had a plan in mind. As she was just about to enter the laboratory herself, the Justiciar called after her to join him in the office, Larina turned and promised Mina she would catch her up before trailing after him. 

His guards had left the door open and once she entered he gestured for her to close it. He had retrieved two fine glasses and had already begun filling them with a generous amount of brandy. Pushing one against the desk towards her, he took a slow sip of his own, rubbing at his temple. 

Though she thought it was too early to begin drinking, her memory of Tholan almost made her change her mind. 

Leaning on the back of the chair, Larina asked, 

“Have you seen anything like this before?” hoping he might be able to provide some answers and alleviate her fears. 

Setting his glass down on the table, Corrilian shook his head and when his gaze met her own she realised there was a faint glint of worry in his eyes. 

“Not even during the war…” Larina raised her eyebrow in interest, realising what he had meant. 

“You fought in the _Great War?_ ” she asked, feeling stupid at his question when she remembered how old he was and _who_ he worked for. 

Whether he found her remark foolish he did not show it, informing her, 

“I hadn’t been working for the dominion for long before the war broke out” and he took another sip of his brandy. Larina sank into the empty seat with a sigh, wondering if she should take the opportunity and ask him about it: the events of the morning finally began to weigh on her, Larina felt herself exhausted as she asked, 

“What on Tamriel are we going to do?” bulking at the last moment to ask what she really wanted to know, reaching for her glass and deciding to take a small sip, this time managing to swallow her mouthful without spluttering. 

Corrilian sank into his empty chair and rested his feet upon his desk, swirling his glass in his hand. 

“So far we can only work with the plan that we have and adapt when issues arrive” he sighed. She thought of what would happen if they had sealed the city off, and the possibility if they locked the disease in with them. Could it be possible there were people already sick and hiding somewhere without them knowing?. 

“Let me see the last drawing you did” his long arm reached across the desk before her, and without hesitation Larina removed her sketch journal from her satchel and handed it over. Watching the reactions on his face as he looked over her drawing of Tholan and his vomiting. 

“I am sure that Calcelmo will find these useful when he’s working in the laboratory, you’ve depicted his projections rather...vividly” for a brief second there was a flash of disgust on his face. Larina simply nodded and took another sip of her drink. 

For a few moments they sat in silence before Larina asked, 

“What can I do to help…. I don’t want to sit by and watch everyone work and do nothing” she sighed, looking down at her hands, “but at the same time I don’t want to get in the way and mess everything up”. At her words Corrilian removed his legs from the desk and lent back in his chair. 

“It would be best to speak to Calcelmo then, I am sure if there is anything you can do he will be able to tell you. But remember you already have a task to perform, you can’t balance too much on your shoulders” his tone remained cool and steady, reminding her of what she was supposed to be focusing on.

Larina sighed, knowing he was right but still replied, 

“The thought of them waiting their in worry and fear, listening to their friend get sicker and sicker knowing they can’t help him without jeopardising themselves” she felt the tears that had been building since the morning begin spilling onto her cheeks: seeing her upset the Justiciar shifted in his seat, 

“I am sure they are sensible enough to protect themselves and keep their distance until we find something better to work with” she wondered if he was trying to reassure her. 

Brushing the tears from her cheeks, Larina sniffed, 

“I know we have no better option, but hearing the fear in Drulis’ voice at being stuck there made me feel sick” at her words the Justiciar abruptly rose to his feet and she watched as he paced to the window and opened it slightly. 

“Are you really that concerned about the safety of the dunmer?” Although his tone remained steady, Larina heard what she thought was a slight annoyance. 

“I’m worried about _all_ of them,” she murmured, wondering if he had heard her response. 

Turning back to her, Corrilian placed his empty glass on his desk before replying, 

“I think you should take these sketches to Calcelmo, he’ll probably need them” interpreting his cool tone as a dismissal, Larina rose to her feet and laid down her half filled glass, picking her sketches up off the desk. He remained silent as he returned to his chair, retrieving a journal from his cabinet and began writing. 

For a moment Larina waited nervously at the door, wondering if there was something else she was supposed to say. Without lifting his eyes from his work the Justiciar spoke, 

“That is all Miss Devereaux”.

With a heavy sigh Larina pulled open the heavy door to his office and headed towards the laboratory. 

  
  


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As she entered the laboratory she found the three of them already busy at work, rushing around. At her desk the bundles of papers of Calcelmo’s research and odd pieces of dwemer technology had been dumped, whilst they had gathered to work at Calcelmo and Aicantar’s desk. A small part of her felt disappointed by the fact that her assistance in Calcelmo’s research of Nchuand-zel would now only be a backwards glance, but Larina hoped that the older mer would still find her work to do. Joining them at their table, Larina watched as Mina paced back and forth from Calcelmo’s books that she had organised and the desk, muttering under her breath. Aicantar stood at his uncle’s alchemy table, book in hand. 

“Mina told me the Justiciar needed to see you?” Calcelmo spoke, eyes not drifting up from the book he was reading through. Larina shrugged her satchel off her shoulder and placed it on an empty chair. 

“He wanted to see the sketches before I brought them to you” she lied, hoping it was convincing. 

Casting his book aside and reaching for another, Calcelmo finally looked up at her, 

“Why would he be so interested in the books if he’s not going to join us for the rest of the research?”. For a moment Larina’s brain blanked before she quickly responded, 

“The Justiciar has asked me to make another copy of the sketches, in case he needs to send them to the capital and warn them what’s going on” her answer gained her no more questions, and she hoped that Calcelmo had believed it. 

“Let’s hope it's not going to come to that”, his gaze returned to the new book he had opened. Their busyness around her made her feel useless. Shrugging off her jacket and resting it on the back of her chair she asked, 

“Is there anything I can do to help? I want to make myself useful”. 

“Mina is looking through all the books I have that talk about the Reach or old Skyrim to see if this disease has been mentioned before, there’s a lot there she hasn’t had time to finish organising, see if she needs help”.

It was something at least, and Larina quickly joined the Khajit at her work, her concentration was admirable, and she knew that if Mina was back at the college library, her meticulous organising would have been flawless. But here, with most of Calcelmo’s works strewn across the laboratory in random places, she knew it would take far longer to sort through. Not wanting to jump straight in and ruin Mina’s process, Larina instead asked where to begin. 

“I think it would be best for you to start with the scrolls, recipes and scraps of paper, look for anything regarding drafts of health or aiding sickness. I doubt we have a cure written down somewhere here, the gods would really be on our side then, but there might be a recipe we can use or improve that assists in the symptoms” at her words Larina nodded, sitting herself down on the dusty laboratory floor and began with the open wooden box before her. 

Scrolls of atronachs, spells to bring light and aid in health regeneration, Larina began making a separate pile for slips of papers and scrolls that gave differing but similar recipes for aiding health. She added to them scrolls and recipes for calming people, hoping that even if they couldn’t find something to ease Tholan’s pain, in some way they could make him comfortable. 

Unsure of how much time had passed, Larina’s legs began to cramp, and so she rose to her feet to make herself more comfortable. Casting a look at the Khajit, she noticed that Mina had been staring at a book for a particularly long time, hoping that she might have found something useful, and Larina asked her what she was reading. 

“The Bear of Markarth” Mina responded, and Larina understood why it had drawn her attention, “I knew Ulfric had crushed the rebellion here in Markarth, but I didn’t realise _how_ cruel he had been”. Mina’s warm gaze flitted to Larina’s cold one, she had no idea to answer. 

“There is a lot of resentment in the Reach by the Breton workers here, of how my uncle managed to regain the throne his family had lost. It is not something I would advise you to engage in conversation with” Larina had not intended for her words to sound so blunt. It was never a cruelty or injustice she had faced: but despite her distance to them, these were still her people, her family's origins. 

Larina felt the Khajit’s gaze still upon her and added, 

“Perhaps if my uncle wasn’t so stubborn and tried to reach an agreement with the last groups of the Forsworn in the Reach, we might have been able to curb the spread of the Affliction and find its source without adding anymore bloodshed” she knew she was naive in hoping that her uncle might consider the possibility, especially when it wasn’t in the benefit of the court. 

Gathering some of her bundles of scrolls, Larina brought them over to Calcelmo’s desk, who was now reading through a handful of books before him, intermittently flicking different pages across. She was about to ask him how she could determine which were useful and which could be discarded when Aicantar rejoined them at the table, two bottles clinking in his hands. Larina was about to ask him what he had been working on until she watched him begin stuffing them into a bag, gesturing for Mina to bring him some of the books that she had been looking through. 

“Are you sure you want to take the first shift?” Calcelmo looked up at his nephew, passing him another book. Aicantar’s expression remained unchanged as he nodded and replied to his uncle, 

“I doubt I would have slept this evening anyway, I think you were right though uncle, I will begin monitoring the symptoms of _all_ the students throughout the evening, there could be a possibility that each of them would react differently to being infected”. 

“I will send some servants to deliver you some food and drink and then will retrieve you of your work at sunrise, if anything changes, even slightly Aicantar, send a guard to inform us” with a nod the younger mer slung his satchel over his shoulder and headed towards the entrance of the laboratory. 

Impulsively Larina rushed after him, stopping at his side as he paused for her to speak. She could see the tiredness and worry on his face: she was terrified than in his attempt to save the students, to save _her_ , he would put himself in danger. She did not know how to voice her concern to him without sounding selfish or childish, instead quickly choosing to hug him tightly. Her action clearly took him by surprise as she felt him flinch for a second, before his free arm squeezed her tightly back. 

“Please stay safe” Larina sniffed, feeling like her vocalisation was breathing life into the threat. 

Aicantar said nothing but freed himself from her grip and continued out towards the sanctum. 

Returning to the group, Larina brushed her tears from her cheeks and reached for the scrolls on the desk to busy herself. 

“Perhaps it would be a good idea if you go and rest and return to help in the morning…” at Calcelmo’s words Larina’s gaze shot up, giving the older mer a look of annoyance. As she opened her mouth to protest, he added, 

“You’re a sensible girl Larina, tonight in the great hall the court will be gossiping about possible outcomes and how to protect themselves rather than the city; knowing your aunt she may even dramatise what’s going on and spread hysteria, you might be able to stop that” Larina nodded, knowing his assumption of her aunt was right. They would need to keep the court calm to prevent her aunt from influencing the decision of her uncle. She felt guilty too at the thought of accepting his excuse to leave, she felt exhausted, physically and mentally, and whatsmore she felt _unclean_. 

“Tomorrow I will ask Aicantar to show you how to categorise these recipes, I want you to write down what ingredients are commonly used and how much, we might be able to begin making some attempts at a cure if we can find some similar diseases in the books”. Larina nodded, retrieving her satchel and cloak, deciding where she was going next she asked, 

“Do you want anything sent from the kitchens to keep you going?” the older mer’s gaze flitted to Mina who was still rummaging through the stacks of books and nodded, 

“I don’t think we will be joining you for dinner this evening”, she had assumed so much. 

Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, Larina headed towards the kitchens, hoping that she could ask Voada to send a servant to fill a bathing tub full of hot water for her. She was dirty and dusty from sitting on the ground outside and the floor of the laboratory, but there was something else that made her feel like the dirt had sunk deeper into her skin. 

“What on Tamriel are you _wearing_?” she heard a voice call out as she entered the long hallway that led to the kitchens, surprised to find Thonar walking away from them. Surely he had seen how she was dressed when they returned to the throne room that afternoon, but perhaps she was more obscured standing within the group than she thought: even with his behaviour she knew he wouldn’t have made a comment about her appearance before her uncle. 

“I didn’t want to ruin any of my clothes when we headed to the camp” she was too tired for compliments or arguments and shifted awkwardly on the spot, hoping to end their conversation as quickly as possible. 

Looking her appearance over again, Thonar made no attempt to hide his disgust at her appearance, 

“Whoever allowed you out of the Keep this morning was a reckless idiot, putting you in harm's way like that” out of spite she wanted to tell him it was the Justiciar, wondering if he would argue with him or remain silent. 

“I was hoping you would be free this afternoon to continue my daughter’s portrait, but considering where you have been I would suggest it would be best you cleaned yourself up” Larina’s eyebrows narrowed in annoyance, and as much as flattery from Thonar disgusted her, his anger chilled her to the bone. Unlike her aunt, he made no attempt in veiling his insults. Hoping that she had not annoyed him too much she called after him, 

“I will leave the laboratory earlier tomorrow to make up for it” through gritted teeth, hoping she had concealed her real feelings.

“By the god’s dear, you look terrible” Voada remarked, Larina’s appearance in the kitchen distracting her from directing the servant girls what to do with dirtied bedding. 

Dumping her satchel and cloak in the doorway, Larina lent against the doorframe with a sigh and asked, 

“Would it be possible if you could ask a servant to fill a bathing tub for me to clean? I feel awful” catching the older Breton’s look of concern she added, 

“I’m not sick don’t worry, I’m just tired and feel so _unclean_ , I had already planned this morning to wash my hair anyways” hoping that she had reassured her. Voada sent a servant to the bathing room to start filling a bathing tub for her before setting a kettle to boil: gesturing to the table she encouraged Larina to join her for a seat. 

“I wonder how much easier that will be when they finish those proper bathing rooms, or whether it will be anymore work” Voada mused, as Larina sank into an empty seat with a sigh. 

“I don’t know why I’m so tired Voada, perhaps it was the upwards incline on our walk back, but I’m _exhausted_ ” and rubbed the back of her neck, feeling her tight muscles. 

“Exhaustion isn’t always physical my dear, there is a mental toll as well” the older Breton reached across the table to squeeze her hand before returning to the boiled kettle and pouring the water into two cups. Bringing them back to the table, she gently placed one before the younger Breton and Larina noted that it was a different colour than ones she had drunk before: tinged red and with a fruity smell. Noticing the look on her face, Voada explained, 

“My daughter sent it, said it's got a good calming effect, certainly good after spending all day griping at these chits' ' she smiled, blowing cool air over the top of her cup. Wrapping her hands around her cup, Larina followed suit. 

Work was continuing as normal, in the heat of the kitchens she could hear the distant sound of laughter and the cook berating a servant. Everybody was acting as normal. 

Taking a sip of her tea, hoping not to burn her lips, Larina asked, 

“Do the servants know what is going on outside?” wondering if word had reached them yet, the servants would have to provide food for Aicantar and Calcelmo whenever they planned on leaving, she knew they would eventually find out. 

“There have been murmurs” Voada’s face suddenly clouded with concern, “amongst the servants about the sickness, some of them are concerned about their safety and want to leave the city before its too late” it was a decision she could understand. 

“I’ve warned them about spreading idle chatter, of how it’ll do more harm than good, but I don’t know if I’m just lying to them” the older Breton sighed. 

Hoping to reassure her, Larina confided, 

“Calcelmo has told me to treat the court the same, my aunt’s hysteria may do more harm than good and could impact their work in looking for a cure” debating whether she should tell her, Larina lowered her voice before adding, “so far there’s no reason to believe any more infected are closer, the students cleared out Karthwasten of bandits and infected and only one of them is sick and being kept at bay. Calcelmo knows what he is doing and will keep this city safe, we just have to help him stop it descending into chaos in the meantime” at her words a strange smile spread across the older Breton’s face. 

“You’d make a better diplomat than your aunt,” she smiled and began clearing the cups away as a servant came to inform her her bath was drawn. Sensing the frustration inside the young Breton, Voada stepped forward almost to offer her a hug and comfort her but Larina quickly shook her head and stepped back. 

“I’d rather not risk it” though the thought of her tight, reassuring embrace was the one thing she wanted right now. 

As she moved to grab her bag and head out of the kitchen, Voada called after her, 

“Perhaps you should rest tonight my dear, I’m sure the court would understand if you ate in your room” though the thought sounded appealing to her, Larina shook her head again and replied, 

“I don’t think I could sleep at night if I knew my aunt was spreading conspiracies” she half-joked and headed out of the door. 

Sitting down had been a mistake, she realised as she dragged her tired body back to her room, wondering if the rest of the group felt as exhausted as her: she would have to pull herself together if she wanted to keep up and help. Entering the corridor to her room, she spotted the Justiciar leaving, his wolves in tow. Noticing her scent, the larger wolf bounded towards her, crashing at her feet. With a tired grin, Larina dropped her belongings on the floor and crouched before the wolf, scratching her head. 

“Long time no see Potema” Larina smiled, squealing slightly as the wolf’s rough tongue attempted to clean her face, “okay okay I get it! I need cleaning up” she laughed, falling back onto her legs and fussing her even more. 

The smaller wolf remained at Corrilian’s side as he approached her, standing beside Potema and looking down at them both, head tilted and regarding her.

“We’re about to take a short walk around the city walls if you’d care to join us?” his voice maintained its coolness at his offer. 

With a resigned sigh she explained, 

“I’m just about to take a bath and clean up actually, my muscles _ache_ , but believe me I would have said yes” her honesty caught her by surprise, and the Justiciar raised an eyebrow at her response. He offered her his hand again, helping to pull her to her feet. For a second he held his hand in hers, his thumb pressing into the back of her hand. Larina’s mind flashed to where it had been last and felt her cheeks flush red. 

“Another time then,” and he let her hand go before offering her a quick bow of his head and continuing down the hallway - stopping only to click his fingers to get Potema to return to his side. 

Larina paused outside her bedroom for a moment, feeling her heart racing slightly. She had gone to his office that morning but hadn’t brought up what he had meant the night before, she wondered if she could conjure up some excuse to visit him again tomorrow, hoping that he would summon her instead. She was certain that there were more pressing things on his mind. 

  
  


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Her head rested on her knees that had been pulled up to her chest, her skin red and steaming from the heat of the water. She had scrubbed herself raw, hoping to rid her skin of the grime of the day, her damp hair sticking to the skin of her back. Her dirty clothes lay in a pile across from the bath on the stone floor, her clean dress and shoes resting on a chair nearby. The room was small and barely furnished, the bathing tub taking up the centre of the room and across from it a looking glass, table and chair for afterwards. After dumping her satchel and cloak in her room, Larina had retrieved some of other belongings hoping that thoroughly cleaning herself would make her feel better. 

Taking in the dark room, she looked forward to the prospect of having a properly designed, lighter room to bathe in. Perhaps a small window would have helped its dim light, the dwemer lights were too blinding and the candles weren’t bright enough; but she had opted for the latter, it was certainly more relaxing. She thought of the large bathing rooms she had heard of that had convinced her aunt to let the project go underway; the idea of relaxing in a large pool of clean water, flowers floating on the surface and the smell of incense relaxed her even in the uncomfortably small bath she was sat in. 

  
  


Deciding she had been soaking in the water for long enough, and rose from the water, grabbing her clean linen to dry herself off; she stepped out of the bath, careful to keep to the fabric strewn across the floor to stop herself slipping on the stone wall. Stopping before the looking glass beside the table, Larina let the linen drop to the floor, awkwardly regarding her naked figure in the glass. She had managed to reach her eighteenth year in relative good health, with hardly a scar or bump, besides her left knee. Turning slightly, Larina slowly looked over herself, though she had filled out more as she had grown older, she wondered if she truly looked womanly. Her hips had filled out and her thighs softened, but her figure wasn’t as full as Daciana’s or Kerah’s, and her breasts had still remained rather small. Though she knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable wearing the kind of dresses that they wore, as beautiful and enticing as they were, she knew she didn’t have the means to fill them out as they did. She mentally compared herself to the women she thought the Justiciar might have been with, his previous _indiscretions_ , and imagined highborne elvish women with beautiful high cheekbones and tall, lithe bodies. At the thought she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head, wondering if she could look as sophisticated: only to sigh at her own foolishness and begin to dress herself, wondering what it was that had attracted him to kiss her, hoping that it wasn’t just a passing mood. 

Wearing her soft, grey linen dress, Larina felt overly warm in its long sleeves but knew once she left the bathing room the cool air would react with her skin. She pulled her slightly damp hair onto the top of her head and pinned into place with the hairpin, the prospect of it in hair filling her slightly with confidence. Larina pulled on her laced shoes and headed back to her room to return her dirty things and head down to the dinning hall; informing a passing servant that the room was now free to clean. 

  
  


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Though Calcelmo had already informed her that they would not be joining them for dinner, Larina was still disappointed to find the dining hall half empty, Calcelmo and Mina’s presence dropping her mood. With a sigh, Larina slid into her seat next Thonar as usual, allowing him to fill her wine glass. 

“You certainly look much better, positively _glowing_ ” he grinned, flashing all of his teeth. Larina thanked him before taking a large gulp of her wine. The atmosphere at the table still remained positive as the court began heaping piles of vegetables and beef to their plates, but the loud sound of chewing and scraping cutlery agitated her. Perhaps she _was_ too tired. Looking over the plates of Corrilian and Estormo before her, she noticed that like usual their servings had remained moderately light compared to their counterparts; Larina wondered if it was their manners or their metabolism that caused their moderation. 

Larina realised that she was taking in more wine than food as she felt herself lighten and encouraged herself to at least finish half of the plate before her, even if she found it hard work. After forcing herself to swallow a small forkful of chicken, Larina raised her gaze to find the Justiciar watching her, turning his gaze away as they met, taking a sip of his wine. Tonight he was indulging Daciana in her conversations that she directed his way, even if his tone still remained bored. 

As the plates began to be cleared away, the table headed into the great hall, and in the back of her mind Larina regretted not spending the evening in her room. Despite the argument the night before, she had wished Aicantar and Calcelmo were here, their conversations were certainly more illuminating. She had even brought her sketch journal with her, hoping slightly that Mina would at least appear for dinner and allow her to sketch her afterwards. As they slowly headed towards their respective tables, Larian felt a rough hand rest on the small of her back. 

“I will go to play a game of cards with your uncle and then I hope you can entertain me afterwards…” Thonar’s breath on her neck made her skin crawl but she flashed a false smile and nodded all the same. Again, she caught the Justiciar’s gaze as he poured himself a generous glass of brandy, trying to figure out the look on his face, before heading towards her aunt’s table. 

Calcelmo had been right in his judgement of her aunt, who had already begun gossiping about the scandal of the day. 

“I half believe that old mage is just exaggerating the situation in order to make himself look important in the court, after all it is he who we’ll pay to look after us if we fall sick” Daciana drawled as she poured herself and Kerah a glass of wine. Larina slipped into a seat opposite them both, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. 

“It's a shame he took the Khajit with him” Kerah replied, Mina’s name absent from her mouth as was her presence at the table. “I’d much rather she stayed in the court to look after us than the mage returning from those sick patients and spreading it here”. From the look on Daciana’s face it was a prospect she obviously hadn’t thought off. As Estormo passed her the wine jug he had finished with and she filled her glass, Larina explained, 

“Only _one_ of the students is sick and they are making sure to keep their distance from him to limit the infection” hoping to keep her voice as cool as the Justiciar. 

Rolling her eyes at her niece's supposed stupidity, Daciana snapped back, 

“And what of the rest of the wretched bandits that terrorise the Reach, no doubt they are spreading it further” a look of smugness on her face. 

Taking a sip of wine to calm herself, Larina explained again with a sigh, 

“Then the suggestion to limit the travel in and out of the Reach is a sensible one, it’ll limit the spread of the affliction in the Reach and make it easier to monitor”. 

“She spends one day in the company of researchers and thinks she is one” Daciana scoffed, causing Kerah to smirk, but at her niece's words she did not bring up the topic again. Turning instead to the young thalmor agent and began grilling him about the argument the night before. 

“It was an argument over nothing really, just some personal politics, isn’t that right Justiciar?” Estormo stammered out as Corrilian joined them at the table - seating himself in a chair that left an empty one either side of him. 

He had lazily draped an arm over the back of the stone seat, crossing his right leg over his knee and swirled the contents of his glass whilst regarding his inferior with a smirk. 

“Estormo’s **earnestness** for the Dominion is certainly commendable” Corrilian drawled, “but he still has a lot to learn about pleasantrie **s** at parties, I doubt he will be invited to any of the Emissary’s parties in the near future” at his words Larina noticed a faint flush creep across Estormo’s golden cheeks. 

“Do keep teasing him Corrilian” Daciana drawled back, her voice heavy with flirtation, “embarrassment seems to suit your young agent”. From her angle Larina noticed a muscle in Corrilian’s cheek twitch at her words before he replied, 

“Estormo does a good enough job by himself” the mer took a sip of his drink, leaving his counterpart to the court’s own wolves. 

With her aunt suitably distracted, Larina decided to make the most of Estormo’s side feature and began sketching a simple drawing to add to her collection. Between pauses to look over his features and taking a sip of her wine, Larina found her gaze returning to the Justiciar, finding herself attracted to his appearance more so than useful. Tonight he was less refined, languishing with ease in his chair and smirking at the conversation around him more than usual. She wondered if it was the generous amount of brandy or something else that had relaxed his mood. Catching her gaze again, Corrilian tilted his head slightly before being pulled back into the conversation by her aunt. 

“A sketch of the young agent ey” Thonar had returned, leaning on the back of her chair and peering over her shoulder, wondering if his tone was an attempt to embarrass her. “Have you nothing better to draw?” hardly a thinly veiled insult, and as Larina’s gaze rose from her sketch to her company at her table, she spotted that Estormo had raised his chin in annoyance. 

“I thought I’d take the opportunity to draw one of our new guests, just like Mina and the rest of the students if they were here” Larina explained, feeling her cheeks flush. 

“May I see?” Estormo asked, reaching out across the table towards her, “I don’t think anyone has sketched me before” the small smile on his face appearing genuine and Larina nodded before handing over. Waiting for his response, Larina reached for the empty wine jug to refill her glass, only for Thonar to take it off her and refill it for her. 

“I like it” Estormo flashed her a smile, “I may have to ask you for another one to send to my mother”, he reached out across the table to return her drawing to her. 

Snatching it from his hands before she had a chance to accept it, Thonar bit back, 

“Her commissions appear rather full at the moment” and Larina felt her teeth clench at the response. 

Between gritted teeth she explained, 

“I am currently working on a portrait of Thonar’s daughter for him, but perhaps if some time in the future frees up I am more than happy to” the prospect that his request was more familial than egotistical appealing to her. 

Larina shifted in her seat, turning to Thonar, hand open hoping that he would give her her sketching journal back. 

“I want to see who else in the court you have sketched” he smirked as he began to flick backwards through her work, her heart quickening as he flicked to the front. From her position she could see her crude drawings from childhood, the flowers in her family garden, the mushrooms that her father grew for her, and the frogs she had loved so much. She felt her body tense as he flicked to the drawings of her family, the same sketches repeated but increasing in refinement as she got older. 

“And _who_ is this beautiful woman?” Thonar drawled, his thumb caressing the image on the paper. 

“My mother” though she had tried to stop herself, her voice was laced in irritation.

“Ah _your_ sister Daciana, I must say beauty runs in the family” at his words Larina noticed her aunt pull back her shoulders and suck in her cheeks, a tell that she was holding her tongue. As she finished her glass of wine, her aunt caught her gaze and Larina could see the anger that burned in them. 

“And this young man, a childhood sweetheart?” Thonar mocked, the page resting on a sketch of a tanned young man laughing, curls wild in the breeze. 

“My _brother_ ” Larina felt her own hand gripping her thigh in anger, her pain helping her hold her tongue. 

“It seems _you_ got all of your mother’s looks” Thonar laughed and continued looking through the sketches. She wondered if he was oblivious to the changed atmosphere around the table, as they all watched him. 

“There’s a few sketches of you in here Daciana, in your hothouse that are certainly very flattering” Thonar drawled, “would you like to see them?”. Daciana caught her niece's gaze before shaking her head and lying, “I have already seen them Thonar dear”. 

He shrugged and continued on, 

“Some sketches of our lovely court cat and look… some rather handsome sketches of you Justiciar” Thonar turned the book in his hand to show Corrilian.

Keeping his cool composure, the Justicar drawled back. 

“Quite flattering Miss Deveraux, perhaps I should send them to _my_ mother too” he drawled before continuing in a bored tone, “Are you quite finished Thonar?”. Larina tensed as she watched Thonar shoot the Justiciar a dark look of annoyance. 

He turned to the last two drawings on her sketch pad, his face wrinkling in disgust. 

“Gods, so that’s how the infected look, they should have killed him rather than letting him linger outside the walls, suppose he brings this in”. Thonar showed Daciana and Kerah her drawing of Tholan’s suffering, and his vile projections of vomit. 

“He _won’t_ ” Larina snapped back, the annoyance in her voice causing him to jump, “Calcelmo is studying him to make sure he can find a cure, it is important he stays alive” her sketches were intended to assist in the research, not for the court to mock. 

“I only worry about _you_ my dear” his hand resting on her leg before the entire table, “whoever let you outside of these walls to do these was a fool to endanger you”. 

“I don’t take kindly to the suggestion that I am a _fool_ Thonar” the Justiciar drawled back, “you can see from her proficient talents that she is capable of talented biological studies, we may need to send these to the capital or to the college to discover if these disease has already plagued this country before and help the mages find a cure” Rising from his seat, empty glass in hand, Corrilian added. 

“Now that you are done bothering Miss Devereaux and terrorising the ladies of the court with things they need not worry about yet, I suggest we return to more _civilised_ conversation” before heading towards the drinks table to refill his glass. 

Thonar closed her journal and slammed it to the table before her, retracting his hand from her thigh and finishing his drink. 

“I will _not_ be spoken down to by a man who has no knowledge of business and could jeopardise mine over a potential threat that hasn’t even been proven sufficiently dangerous yet” Thonar snapped as the Justiciar returned to his seat. 

“If you have a problem on how I represent the Dominion in your city, Thonar,” it was the first time Larina had heard him refer to him by name, “You are more than welcome to visit my office tomorrow” Corrilian’s voice was steady, but by his body language Larina knew he was ending the conversation there. 

Taking the opportunity to change the subject, Daciana began grilling Estormo again, asking questions about his mother back home. 

Seething with anger and tired, Larina did not have an idea of how she could maintain the composure of flattering Thonar, when all she wanted to do was throw her drink in his face; and so she requested her aunt’s permission to retire for the evening. 

“Are you going to the camp tomorrow with Cacelmo?” her aunt asked, and was surprised to hear a hint of concern in her tone. Larina rose to her feet, her journal tucked under her arm and her empty wine glass in hand. 

“Not that I am aware of, but if so I will take the same precautions tomorrow as I did today”. 

“If you are returning outside the walls to _them_ , I would rather we postponed your sketchings of my daughter, I would rather not risk her health” Thonar did not turn to face her. Though his response was justified, she couldn’t help but think he was punishing her. Catching the Justiciar’s eye she remembered their conversation in his office before replying, 

“Then it looks like I will be staying in the safe Keep” hoping her words sounded more honeyed than sarcastic, “there’s only so much vomit one can sketch” she joked before bobbing a quick curtsy to leave; stopping by the drinks table to refill her glass of wine before retiring to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me longer than expected ;w; I think because I already have something in mind happening that I want to move forward but I also don't want to rush the work! I'm also very aware ( like I keep saying) that this fic is now 30 chapters deep and 100k words :o And here I thought I would have no more than 30 chapters and get it done, alas Dostoyevsky influenced me in my undergrad more than I thought! 
> 
> ~Enjoy :D


	32. Skulking Spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in two perspectives, I hope this works and you all enjoy <3

As Larina awoke the following morning, her muscles still ached as she pulled herself upright into a sitting position, somewhat glad she had vocally told the court she wouldn’t be leaving the city. If she had been smarter she would have made the sketchings last longer, making her presence at the camp justified: but in the back of her mind she felt glad, guilty, but glad. After seeing how the sickness had affected Tholan, and the fear in Drulis’ eyes when he realised they were leaving them behind, she shuddered at the fate. There was less chance she would get in the way if she helped in the laboratory. Even if it was just to remind Aicantar that he needed to rest, wash and eat.

Larina untangled her hair from her braid and slowly ran her fingers through her curls, glad she had made the decision to wash it the night before. She still felt like she could feel the grime under her skin. Her mind drifted back to the events around the table, her calm morning mood quickly shifting to anger, why had she let Thonar take her journal like that? Of course at the Justiciar’s request she was supposed to placate him, but to have herself humiliated in front of the entire court. Larina rested her chin on her knee wondering if Thonar found it thrilling to see her silent and subdued; she remembered how he had flattered her _fragility_ and shuddered. But the Justiciar had stood up for her, in some way at least, and had managed to deflect the conversation: she wondered what they had gossiped about once she had left the room. 

Hearing a knock at her door, Larina rose from her bed, wrapping her shawl around her and answered the door, surprised to find Joric awkwardly balancing a tray in his arms. 

“What’s happened to Voada?” She raised an eyebrow, hoping to keep her composure as her mind raced through the worst possibilities. 

“Busy making food for Calcelmo and the guards, amongst other things, she asked me to deliver all the breakfast trays, I didn’t realise there were so many” the young Nord replied breathlessly. Easing his struggle, Larina removed the tray from his hands, taking it to her stone table before rejoining him at the door. The poor boy must have run around all of the Keep to deliver all these trays and in less than an hour he would be back to find most of them uneaten. 

Larina flashed him a reassuring smile and thanked him, 

“I suppose keeping busy is better than no work at all but don’t overtire yourself” it was a meaningless platitude, the poor boy had no choice over how long he would have to work but he thanked her all the same before rushing back down the hallway to continue working. It wasn’t until Larina returned to her tray that she realised he must have delivered the wrong one: instead of fruits and honeyed bread, she had a pot of black tea and bread with meats and cheese. Peering out of her door again Larina looked up the hallway to see what other trays had been discarded along the hallway only to find it completely empty. She knew by now that the Justiciar often started his work early, but she worried that Mina had not returned to bed at all. 

Her breakfast would have to do, and so Larina took her tray with her onto her balcony to enjoy the morning view again. Although the temperature had dropped from the previous night, it was still too warm and she shrugged off her shawl, watching the hairs on her arm rise slightly. The cool breeze was pleasant against her skin. Picking at her stolen breakfast, Larina’s mind had returned to the night before again, the Justiciar challenging Thonar to a meeting and wondering if the Nord would take him up on it. So far during most situations the Justiciar had retained a cool composure, challenging Thonar’s authority certainly wouldn’t have gone down well. 

Not wanting to waste anymore time and wanting to return to help in the laboratory as quickly as possible, Larina decided to take her tray back in, and drink her tea whilst she dressed herself: her only clue to who the breakfast was intended for, Larina assumed the recipient of the smoky tea. 

  
  


She dressed quickly in her brown kirtle and tunic, hoping that despite its practicality it was still enough to flatter herself when she met with Thonar later. The prospect annoyed her, there were more important things that needed her focus right now, so much work she could be doing to assist Calcelmo and the students, but instead she would have to waste hours flattering that skeever. The Justiciar’s half promise was the only thing that motivated her to continue, and still he had not explained what he meant by his words. Larina attached her silver chain around her waist, and her pocket watch to it; if her aunt was going to make mean comments about her involvement, she would make the extra effort to look the part at least. Again she bundled up her hair on the top of her head, pinning it in place with the hairpin dagger, and grabbed her satchel and tray before heading out the door. She left her half-eaten breakfast by her bedroom door ready for Joric to collect it again later, hoping that he would not get into trouble for his mistake. 

Larina had not made it far down the hallway before a dull ache twisted in her stomach, causing her steps to falter. With a creeping realisation she realised she felt sick. Perhaps those restless nights were finally catching up with her, she thought as she tried to push any other reason out of her mind. She already knew as she entered the laboratory that Calcelmo would not be there, by now administering assistance and research at the camp, but she hoped that Aicantar would at least be there. Instead she was met by a frazzled Mina, her dappled grey fur bristling in every direction answered the question she had thought before. 

“ _ Gods _ Mina, did you not go to sleep last night?” Larina’s voice was tinged with concern as she removed her satchel and left it on an empty chair to assist the Khajit with the books she was sifting through. 

“I think I napped...for a short while and Caclcelmo left me to it, but I spent the night making different draughts of health with the different ingredients” her own tunic stained with different splashes of colour. 

“We may have something that helps already here, if the disease originated in the Reach perhaps the cure can be found here too. It may just be the quantities we need to manage” though her words made sense, her tone was a little shaky, Larina hoped it was from tiredness. 

Remembering the lack of trays in the hallway Larina asked, 

“Have you eaten yet?” remembering their absence from the dining room the night before and adding, 

“I can rush to the kitchens and find you something to eat?”.

Mina smiled at her kindly and patted her arm with a reassuring smile. 

“When Aicantar returned this morning Calcelmo summoned for some food before sending his nephew to rest and headed out himself….it appears Tholan has taken another turn for the worst, with Aicantar resting I was wondering if you could read through his field notes and write them up?” Mina asked, “I can’t make out some of his handwriting and assumed you would fare better”. 

Larina nodded and retrieved the notes from her, the day before Calcelmo had told her she would learn how to sift through the alchemical ingredients for those that recurred and how to document them properly. Though this work wasn’t hands on, at least she could help others decipher Aicantar’s messy and crude handwriting. He had written in Tamrielic for their benefit, not that you could tell. Hunched over her desk, Larina began slowly transcribing his notes, pausing at moments of disgust. Tholan’s vomiting had increased in amount and persistence, and when he wasn’t being sick he was delirious. It was taking a considerable toll on the morale of both the students and the guards around the camp who had to watch him descend into madness. 

There was that twisting, sick feeling again. Larina sat upright hoping that fixing her posture might alleviate her sickness, until she felt her stomach lurch again, causing her to jump off the stool and clutch her mouth. Seeing her reaction, Mina quickly dropped the book she was holding and rushed to her side: only for Larina to stumble back, panicked, begging to keep her distance. The Khajiit’s eyes looked over her appearance and she wondered if that was a look of concern in them. 

“Whatever is the matter?” her voice was steady and concerned. 

“I just...I suddenly felt sick, it's been increasing over the morning and I didn’t want you to come close in case -” Larina couldn’t say the words she had intended, but knew by the expression on Mina’s face that she understood. 

“Larina it can’t possibly be  _ that _ , you didn’t get any of Tholan’s vomit on you and we’re certain that’s how it's spread…”. 

The nauseating feeling had begun to pass and Larina carefully removed her hand from her mouth before replying, 

“We don’t know that for certain, it could be in the air, Calcelmo said himself we don’t know how the different races react to it” she hadn’t intended for her voice to sound so panicked. 

Mina breached the distance between them, pulling Larina into a tight hug and reassured her, 

“I promise you I don’t think it's  _ that _ , you’re worrying yourself needlessly at the moment when it could be lack of sleep or something you ate”. Mina’s words resonated with her as she remembered the mistaken breakfast and explained, 

“I’m certain the servant who brought me my breakfast this morning brought me the wrong tray, perhaps it  _ was _ something I ate” she wasn’t convinced by her own mumbling, but Mina was right, it was better than working herself up needlessly over something. Another reassuring squeeze from Mina suggested she felt the same. 

She was just about to return to Aicantar’s notes when she noticed Mina pause for a moment, half turning towards the doorway with her head tilted to one side. 

“Something is happening in the inner sanctum” Mina spoke and began rushing towards the door, Larina closely behind. The closer they got to the entrance, Larina began to hear what Mina’s finer hearing had already picked up, heavy footfall. 

Spilling into the inner sanctum, Larina was surprised to see several dozen city guards preparing themselves to leave the Keep. She had no idea why they had been summoned but every single one of them carried a shield and sword. Her stomach dropped as she flashed a look of fear and confusion towards Mina, had something happened in the camps that needed such a heavy handed response? Were the bandits back. 

Larina grabbed the arm of the guard closest to her and demanded to know what was going on, he remained silent, perhaps assuming from her plain appearance that she was only a servant of the Keep. She had never uttered the phrase in her life, and almost felt ashamed to use her position and fake authority as she demanded, 

“I am the niece of the Jarl and working with his court mage during this crisis, I demand to know what is going on” She could feel Mina getting closer to her, trying to calm her down. 

Whether the guard bought her authority or not, he answered all the same. 

“Jarl Igmund has instructed us to clear out the Warrens and escort all the vagrants to Karthwasten to control the spread of the infection” Larina’s brow furrowed at his words. 

Noticing him about to start walking, she tightened her grip on his arm, hoping to stop his movement, 

“But that doesn’t make sense, there’s no cases of the infected inside the city walls, it's just an excuse to get rid of them” her voice sounded indignant but he managed to wrestle himself free from her grip. 

“I’m just following orders, miss” he replied, before gesturing to the other guards closest to him to follow him out of the entrance. The sudden imbalance caused her to sway, and she was glad that Mina was so close with a firm hand on her back. 

“We need to  _ do _ something” Larina stated, “this plan is ridiculous, we need to find Aicantar and stop them! Have you seen him since he went to rest this morning?” at her words Mina shook her head but remained silent. 

“We need to find him, I guess it would make sense to split up but apart from being in the laboratory, the only other place he would be is in the city or the museum” Larina sighed, knowing that if for some reason he had left the Keep he would already see the guards advancing through the city. 

“Alright,” Larina continued, “you wait in the laboratory in case he comes back and I’ll check the museum, if he’s back before me head straight for the Warrens and try to stop them, Aicantar will show you the way. If I find the laboratory empty I’ll assume you’ve both already gone and I’ll head straight for you” and with that, Larina headed towards the museum. 

  
  


✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

  
  
  


It was the first time in years Larina had stepped foot in the Dwemer museum, not long after she started helping Calcelmo, Aicantar had given her a brief tour of the site. Enthusiastic and proud of his research, Aicantar had boasted to her that once he was allowed into the ruins again, he would return with more research that would raise him to his uncle’s standard. He would have his own works on dwemer technology that students and enthusiasts would pour over. Larina smiled to herself at the fond memory, wondering if it was his kindness then that had invoked her feelings for him. Even when she learnt they weren’t reciprocated, his brotherly affection and support of her involvement in their research lifted her mood whenever the court got her down. She thought of him now, tired and worried, risking his own health and sanity to help find a cure and here she was to relay even more bad news. 

She found only one solitary guard sat at the stone table in the centre of the entrance, and she assumed the guards presence in the museum had diminished due to the current crisis. Hearing her approach the guard rose to his feet and demanded, 

“Only those with permission from Calcelmo are allowed in here, who let you in?” his instant anger frustrating her. 

“There was no guard on the door,” Larina explained, “and I’ve come looking for Aicantar with something important to tell him anyway, is he here?”. 

At her words the guard relaxed slightly and replied, 

“No, he’s gone to fetch something but will be back shortly if you want to wait for him”. With no other option Larina nodded and took a seat at his table, she had no idea where else he could be and didn’t want to risk missing him by running all over the Keep. If the guard had said he was going to return soon, she had to hope he was right. The guard returned to the book he was reading, and so Larina sat in silence, wringing her hands at the time passing; wondering if it felt so slow  because of her urgency . Amongst the distant thud of dwemer machinery still slogging along, and the whistling of the pressured heat it emitted, she noticed a strange scratching sound in the distance and asked the guard if he heard it.

“Probably just the old machinery” the guard did not look up from his book again. 

  
  


She felt her stomach twist, there was that sick feeling again but this time she knew she was going to throw up. Larina quickly rose to her feet, one hand on clutching her mouth and the other her stomach that had begun to ache. Seeing the guard’s concern on his face at her reaction, Larina mumbled through her hand, 

“I’m going to be  _ sick _ ” only for the guard to gesture to the hallway to the left, explaining there was a toilet she could use. Larina had only made it to the golden rails that had barred the way, before vomiting the contents of her stomach onto the stone floor. In horror, her mind instantly reeled back through the possibility that she could be infected, and her legs began to shake. Leaning against the dwarven metal to stop her legs collapsing from underneath herself, she heard that strange scratching noise again. 

The guard had begun to approach her, carefully keeping his distance claiming he was going to get help. Perhaps he feared what she did as well but she realised that strange noise was steadily getting louder. 

She held up a shaky hand to silence him and asked, 

“Can...can you hear that too?”. He had ignored her concerns before, but now hearing the strange noise himself, the guard nodded nervously. 

“Do you know what it is?” he remained unresponsive until he muttered the words that made her empty stomach drop. 

“It  _ can’t _ have gotten out, Aicantar kept it locked in his office”. 

Her eyes widened in horror as she shakingly demanded to know what he had meant, watching as he cautiously drew his sword and began creeping towards the entrance to the hall. 

“You need to leave” he called over her shoulder before descending down the stairs. She still didn’t know what he meant, as she hovered uncertainly at the top of the stairs. He had only climbed half of the stone staircase before she watched him freeze in fear and realised what he had been so terrified of. 

Lurching round the corner, a large dwarven contraption heaved itself towards him, awkwardly jutting side to side as advanced towards them. Like a spider made of metal, steam spewed out of the circling contraption on its head. Larina watched as the guard braced himself, sword at the ready and begging her to leave again. But as hard as she tried, she found her feet glued to the floor. 

Despite its size, the machine was upon him in seconds, for a second the guard faltered before raising his sword to defend himself, as the spider began slashing at him with its front legs. Despite her fear, Larina was mesmerised that it moved with such speed and precision despite being clearly damaged. Its strength was too much for the guard, who had begun swinging his sword at the bulk of its body, only for one of its legs to slash a deep wound into his leg and cripping him. As he lay defenseless on the floor, he continued in his attempt to defend himself and take it down, until its other leg descended into his chest with a sickening crunch. If she hadn’t vomited before, the sound of breaking bone and the wet sound of tearing flesh would have made her sick; she could hear his gurgling breaths as he spluttered on the floor. The monstrosity removed its leg from the guard’s chest and awkwardly began lumbering up the stairs. 

Larina wondered if she could make it to the door and scream for help, but the shakiness of her legs and the spinning of the room suggested otherwise. She rushed backwards as quickly as she could manage, pulling herself onto the stone table with the last of her strength, hoping that it could not reach her from her height. She had seen how it had wobbled too and fro, two of its legs had to be damaged, and she hoped that if it tried to jump and reach her it would fall over. Drawing in a shaky breath, Larina screamed for help as loud as she could, hoping that some passing guard or servant might hear and come to her aid. The machine still lumbered forward, why was it coming for her now? Without sight how had it known she was there?. 

It began skittering a circle around the table, occasionally jabbing its two front legs over the edge of the table. It had the height to reach her but not the length, it was the only thing keeping her safe. If she could just wait here until help came she would be safe: Larina clenched her fists in anger, this wasn’t how she was planning to go out. Her dizziness increased as the spinning room began to turn horizontal, and with a sickened thought she realised that she was going to pass out on the table. In her daze she had lost sight of the spider until with a sudden, horrified realisation, its metal appendage collided with her leg. 

In a blinding stream of pain, what was left of her vision cut out, as its sharpened point cut through the fabric of her kirtle and the skin of her thigh with a wet, tear. If she had had any more strength she would have cried out in pain. With her legs buckling under her, Larina collapsed off her feet and fell forward off the front of the table. In an attempt to break her fall she had instinctively put her arms out, only for her shoulder to collide with a stone stool with a sickening crack. 

She had crumpled to the floor, shaking and in pain, this was how they were going to find her. She could hear the faint skittering sound of the monster approaching from around the table: in a vague clarity of consciousness she had realised that its speed had slowed, almost as if it knew its prey was weakened and did not need such a violent charge again. Despite her pain, Larina pulled herself upright, almost sick in the process, and positioned herself against the stone table, adamant to meet it head on. With her free hand she removed the hairpin from her bun, letting her hair cascade against her face in a mess of waves. In close combat it would do nothing, but at least they could see that she tried. 

The monster juttered around the corner, and she was surprised to find herself now waiting in an unexplained calmness. It had paused a few feet from her, waiting motionlessly. A strange feeling overcame her and she mistook it for the feeling of passing out again, and she mentally thanked her body for its mercy - perhaps she would be unconscious when it plunged its leg into her chest. As time slowed, the monstrosity lept itself forward towards her, and instinctively her right arm rose its hand forward, despite the searing pain in her shoulder, her palm facing forward. An uncontrolled scream burst from her chest as her hand felt on fire, a stream of bright light bursting forth and hitting the spider straight on and deflecting its leap. Her chest heaved in gulps of air as she watched in horror as it began to pull itself to its feet again for another attack. Whatever she had done, she had know idea how to do it again, and now the last of her strength had left her. 

As she slumped back against the stone table, her eyes beginning to roll in her head, the last thing she saw was a brilliant flash of purple light. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

He had requested his breakfast in his office that morning, and although he had no intention of eating it, the lack of its delivery annoyed him. It was only his fate that he had been given the most useless servant in the entire Keep. For that morning he had planned to write a dossier on the recent outbreak in the Reach, ready to send to Ondolemar in Solitude, knowing how easily the city could descend into chaos. They were lucky that their mage was an Altmer, and it was shameful that they did not see it, perhaps because he and his nephew wasted their gods forsaken time in that ruin. But there was a reason why studying should be left to the Mer, this situation would only prove it to them. Even with his fire low in the hearth, the room was too unbearingly warm and Corrilian rose to open his small window and shrug off his thick thalmor cloak. Taking in his small view of the Reach he remembered the night before, how that de’nt had lowered the tone of conversation not only with his presence but his words. What was worse was the fact he could not read the room and know they all despised him. He had berated himself for his rash decision in calling the nord out on his behaviour, but the pained look on her face had motivated him. Despite his protestations he knew the Nord was too cowardly to come to his office and challenge him, from his own research he knew the man preferred to skulk in the shadows. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a frantic knock at his officer door, with a sigh Corriian rose to his feet, leaving his robe behind on his stone chair. He hadn’t a moment to open it himself before Estomro had barged into the room, breathless. Corrilian rose an eyebrow in faint annoyance and gestured for the younger mer to take a seat, only for Estormo to shake his head and explained, 

“The Jarl is deploying guards to the camp and to the lower part of the city  _ now _ …”. Corrilian took a moment to take in his words, he  _ had _ advised the Jarl to take the outbreak seriously and began taking measures to protect the city, but why had he called for the guards to be sent to the lower city, and whatsmore without counsel from himself or the Legate. 

Corrilian marched from the room, gesturing for Estormo to follow him, and as they headed to the inner sanctum they passed several guards waiting for their command, shield and sword at the ready. Across the sanctum he saw Larina and the Khajiit girl arguing with some of the guards, though he could not hear what they were saying. He watched as she grabbed the arm of the guard closest to her in an attempt to stop him marching forward, only for him to shrug himself out of her grip, the action causing her to sway on the spot. It had not been a violent reaction but had unsteadied her all the same, causing the Khajiit to to wrap a hand around her waist. What was wrong with her?

“What do you want me to do Justiciar?” Estormo’s voice pulled him back into the moment, he had no time to go over to her and find out. 

“Find the legate and summon him to the throne room….  **_Now_ ** ” the younger mer had hovered uncertainly for a moment until Corrilian shouted for him to move, as he advanced quickly towards the throne room. 

As he descended the first set of stairs, that impudent leader of the Silver-Blood demanded he wait until the Jarl summoned him, Corrilian felt his hand clench at his side in an attempt to stop himself from filling the fool full of sparks. 

Quickly ascending the stairs to the throne, the Silver-Blood was hurling abuse over his shoulder, as Corrilian stopped before the Jarl and his advisor - at his presence they appeared shocked. 

Despite his training, his cool demeanour slipped as he demanded, 

“By Auriel-el  _ what _ are you doing? Sending guards to the camp and the lower city for what reason?” his jaw clenched as he hoped his anger was not spread across his face.

At his words a confused look spread across the Jarl’s face as he explained, 

“ _ You _ advised me to prepare the city, we’re moving the camp outside the city walls to Karthwasten, we cannot be certain that they don’t carry the infection! If the sick are located right at the city gates we are  _ trapped _ here”. Corrilian took in a steady breath, reminding himself of what Ondolemar had told him, the city was advised by fools. 

“You were supposed to wait on the advice of your court mage” Corrilian spat back, his defense of the older mer not out of loyalty but practicality. “Do you not think that jeopardising his plan by flooding Karthwasten with more people than he can control and descending the Reach into chaos is going to help him find a cure?”. 

His steady eye took in the court that surrounded him, his steward and the housecarl, neither of which would meet his eye. If this infection spread further gods know how much longer he would have to endure it here. 

“What on Tamriel is going on?” the Legate had finally joined them, evidently as annoyed as himself for being left out of the Jarl’s decision. “Why are my men being refused the ability to leave the Keep?” he demanded to know. Corrilian shook his head in incredulity, how long had they expected to keep this a secret before they had found out, he had underestimated their stupidity. 

“We think it would be best if this is dealt with Markarth’s  _ guards _ , not with any outside influence” the Jarl did not sound confident in his words, and Corrilian wondered who had given him this inspiration. 

Flexing his hand to save it from clenching again, Corrilian asked with an exasperated sigh, 

“Why have you deployed the guards to the lower city? Such a heavy handed response is going to instantly instill fear and panic into your people and gods know how they will react” his voice had steadied from anger to annoyance. 

It the steward who had spoke up to explain, 

“Not the  _ lower _ city but the Warrens, an area past the foundry and mine that is semi collapsed and derelict, inhabited solely by the drunks and vagrants of the city. If anyone is to jeopardise the safety of Markarth it's  _ them _ ” Corrilian furrowed his eyebrows as he wondered where the foolish nord was going with his remark. “The guards are there to clear them out of the city and into Karthwasten, enough to keep them in check in case they fight back”. 

Corrilian could not contain his curt laughter, his reaction startling the small court before him. “Are the vagrants of Markarth that strong they can overpower the guards?” he stated, his tone thick with sarcasm. The old steward raised his chin in defiance until Corrilian addressed them again, his tone low and steady, 

“Remember Jarl Igmund that not only am I hear representing the Aldmeri Dominion within your city, but the Legate here is representing the Empire, I am sure  _ our _ superiors are going to be pleased to find how your foolish, small court guided your hand to act carelessly without our advice and is potentially leading the city into chaos”. At his words the Jarl’s eyes grew wide, and in the back of his mind he wondered if he had been too dramatic. But the Jarl had not only acted without full advice, but his plan was reckless and dangerous. 

“We are  _ trying _ to keep the city safe” he exalted, panicked. Corrilian paused at the top of the stairs and shook his head. 

“Your court is advising you in the best interest of their pockets,  _ not _ your people Jarl Igmund” before he began to descend the staircase, leaving the Legate to begin his own barrage of criticism. 

As he marched out of the throne room he knew what he had to do: his superiors would receive his dossier on the state of the Reach and the looming threat of the Afflicted sooner rather than later. It was his own stupidity that had driven him to wait, hoping they would take the advice of their mage before acting carelessly. Yet Ondolemar had warned him, even though  _ she  _ had told him, that the people here only thought of money and violence. He was the fool that thought these Nords could act rationally. 

He had barely made it into the inner sanctum before spotting the Silver-Blood and the Khajiit rushing for the staircase to the left of him, a look of panic on their faces, Corrilian quickened his pace to meet them. He noticed that Larina was not amongst them - he knew that if something was going on she would have sat idly in the laboratory in safety, and the Silver-Blood here too there was no excuse he could think of to explain her absence. As they ascended the staircase, Corrilian grabbed the Khajiit by the arm and forcefully pulled her to a stop, demanding to know what was going on. 

She wrenched her arm from his in annoyance and defiance but still answered, 

“Larina went to the dwemer museum to find Aicantar but when she didn’t return to the laboratory after a while I realised something was wrong” she huffed, “it was when I was heading over here myself that me and Thonar heard  _ screaming _ and realised it was her”. At her words his stomach dropped, seeing the other Silver-Blood rushing towards him at the sight of his frantic brother, Corrilian advised her, 

“Go find Aicantar  _ now _ ” before rushing up the stairs past the Thonar and into the museum. 

Before them the room split into two passageways around a pillar before opening into the main room, Corrilian did not need to gesture for Thonar to cautiously take the other side. As he stepped into the main room, he noticed in horror that she was laying on the floor barely conscious, her forehead cut and blood already pooling from her leg. Before her a strange, dwarven automaton lumbered forward, its two front legs slicing at the air as it advanced. Corrilian raised his right hand and quickly cast a spell, the forks of lightning sending it careening into the wall opposite with the metallic crunch. 

“By the gods what  _ is _ it” Thongvor’s voice, loud and uncautious, behind him almost startled them both as they tried to figure out what had happened. As Corrilian and the Silver-Blood began to head towards her, the sound of scraping metal diverted their attention. 

If he had cast that spell on any human, they would have been out cold, especially with the force of slamming into the wall. But the monstrosity pulled itself to its feet again and began lumbering towards them again. Thongvor unsheathed his sword as he rushed forward, hoping to defend the young Breton from another attack, but it did not pause as it passed, continuing on its path towards them. Corrilian watched into halted confusion, his mind quickly reeling at the possibility of the machine’s sentience. In their presence they had shown it they were more of a threat than she, and now its attention was diverted, but thinking quickly Corrilian knew this could work. 

“Help your brother keep the machine at bay whilst I help Miss Devereaux '' his fingers tingled with magicka for a brief second as he contemplated summoning himself a bound sword to defend himself. 

“Why don’t  _ you _ fight it” Thonar spat back in annoyance and Corrilian did not hold back his anger. 

“If you can cast a healing spell to stop her bleeding to death  _ go for it _ ” he did not wait on a reaction but rushed to her side. 

Crumpled on the floor, her shoulder stuck out at an awkward angle and her clothes were sticky with blood, but he knew he had to remove her from the floor before he could help her, for her own protection. Carefully Corrilian wrapped his arms around her as he lifted her body from the floor, trying to ignore her whimpers of pain at the movement before carefully setting her down. Already his hands were covered in blood and the dark stain on the skirt of her dress concerned him. Moving the torn pieces of fabric, he noticed in horror the large gash that had been slashed deep into the skin of her leg, the sight almost making his stomach turn. 

He quickly cast her gaze to her face and seeing her eyes flickering and rolling, he realised he didn’t have much time. 

“I’m sorry…. But this is going to hurt” he wondered if she had heard his words before he placed both hands over the wound and began casting a healing spell. Her face twisted in pain but she remained silent, his forearms began to shake with the effort of casting the spell, hoping he could close the cut. But the sudden sound of commotion behind him diverted his attention. 

With only one of the brother’s wielding a sword, Thonar had decided to confuse the automaton with his presence, hoping to distract it whilst his brother fought it back. Their plan had appeared to work until Thongvor, in his cockiness, rose his leg to kick it into submission, only for the machine to slice into his leg and cripple him. The dawning of realisation hit him, the machine was broken but had adapted to defend itself, knowing if it took out the legs of its opponent it could debilitate them, it's what it had done to her. Had she tried to fight back and defend herself, her feistiness in the face of danger still surprised him. Corrilian watched as the older Silver-Blood grappled with the machine, assuming that Thonar would come to his defense and free his brother. Until the automatons other leg descended itself into Thongvor’s throat with a sickening crunch. As it began to pull its extremity away, Corrilian noticed that Thonar stood by, expressionless and unmoving. Hoping to buy the Silver-Blood some time, Corrilian exerted the last of his magicka casting another lightning bolt into the automation and sending it skittering away. 

“ **_Grab your brother’s sword and keep it back!_ ** ” his voice heavy with anger at Thonar’s cowardly inability to act. He waited until the last Silver-Blood retrieved the sword from his brother’s hand and braced himself for another attack, before turning his back on him again. 

Corrilian placed both of his hands over the wound again, hoping to cast his healing spell, only for the golden light to flicker and fade. He had used up too much of his magicka and he was exhausted. Corrilian tried to regain his composure, hoping to steady his breathing and try again, knowing the dangers of what could happen if he exerted himself too much. 

“ **_Stop attacking it!_ ** ” Aicanater breathlessly called out to them as he rushed into the room, the Khajiit closely behind him, as he took in the sight of Thonar hacking at the machine with his brother’s sword. 

“I can stop it but  _ remain still _ ” Corrilian turned to face him, wondering why the mage had called for them to stop moving, when the machine was still fiercely trying to kill them. He noticed in his hand the Mer held a long, golden metal staff that he used to cast a spell onto the machine. The beam of light he cast hit it on the circulating bands of metal on its top that protected what appeared to be a soul gem, lighting up as the light hit it. For a moment it shuddered and stopped, before advancing forward towards Thonar again. 

“Was that supposed to stop it?” Thonar called out in horror when he realised the look of confusion grew on Aicantar’s face. The mage stood there wordlessly. 

In what he could only assume was a burst of adrenaline, Corrilian’s mind quickly connected the dots as he called to Aicantar, 

“You  _ know _ what to do,  **_destroy it_ ** ” as he stepped away from the table, Aicantar gaze noticed Larina’s unconscious body on its surface with dawning horror. Whatever it was, it wasn’t here by mistake and only Aicantar was to blame. His face a mixture of pain and anger, he raised the staff again casting another spell. 

At the second beam of light, the gem shattered sideways, collapsing the machine with a juddering halt, and Aicantar and the Khajiit rushed to his side. 

“By Auri-el what happened?” Aicantar’s face paled as he took in the blood. With his breath now steadying, Corrilian placed his hands gently on her leg again and began casting another healing spell. His hands tingled in warmth, but it wasn't as strong as before, but the blood that was still pooling from her wound encouraged him on. He could feel the pressure in his head begin to rise, and his hands shake as the effort began to take its toll on him again. 

He felt the warm paw of the Khajiit on his arm as she steadily pulled him away, 

“Let me finish this off…” and Aicantar pulled him aside, he had no strength to prevent him. The khajiit gently placed her paws on Larina’s thigh, casting her own spell of healing and he watched as the wound slowly began to stop bleeding and pull together. She stopped just short of knitting the skin entirely back together, and he demanded, 

“Why aren’t you finishing the spell?” his own voice shaken and angered.

“I can’t clean the wound completely without cleaning it, it could get infected,” the Khajiit explained cautiously as she slowly took in the rest of Larina’s injuries. She still remained unconscious. 

Undoing the buttons of her tunic, the Khajiit carefully pulled her collar aside before exalting a sharp intake of breath before explaining, 

“I think her collarbone is broken, we’ll need to reset it”, noticing that Aicantar had slumped onto a stone chair, his face broken and pale, Corrilian stepped forward to help. Following the Khajiit’s instructions, Corrilian supported her upper body as Mina began to reset the bone. At the sharp, sudden motion her eyes flicked open before she let out an uncontrollable shriek of pain, but the work had been done. Her eyes frantically flitted around the room, trying to make sense of what was going on, looking for something to latch onto. She began to hyperventilate, her breathing hitched, rocking her body causing her more pain and her breath to catch even more. Supporting her with his own body, Corrilian gently placed his hand on the side of her face and used the last of his magicka to subdue her into calmness and unconsciousness. He gently laid her head back onto the table before sinking himself into a chair, feeling his legs beginning to shake. 

He felt the Khajiit’s gaze on his face and shot her a look of annoyance before she explained, 

“Your eye looks like it's full of blood” Corrilian felt his left eye twitch, the pressure in his head slowly beginning to fade. He rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, content to see that there was none of the blood that she mentioned present. 

“That spell, whatever it was you cast, do it now for my brother” Thonar’s shaken words reminding them he was still in the room. Thongvor remained motionless in his pool of blood, Corrilian knew it would not work but still the Khajiit rose and approached his lifeless body and knelt beside it. With both paws she cast a faint healing spell around his chest, to no avail. Corrilian knew it was just for show, magicka  _ could _ bring someone back from the very brink of death if the mage was powerful enough, but it was too late for Thongvor. He had to admire the Khajiit’s compassion, her act hoping to calm Thonar’s distress. He wondered if his compassion stretched that far, his own first thought had been that his death was needlessly caused by his own foolish actions. Like all Nords, Thongvor had grown cocky at his own strength, paying for that mistake with his life. He watched in silence as the last Silver-Blood knelt beside his brother, crossing his limp arms across his chest, surprised that he didn’t react when the Khajiit placed her paw on him and cast a calming spell. 

“It’s all my fault…” Aicantar’s shaky voice finally broke the silence, regarding them both with wide eyes. “I thought I could control it, with the right spell it would do as I commanded”. Brushing his hair out of his face, Corrilian looked at him and asked, 

“ _ What _ is it?” he could only assume that it had been dragged out of the depths of the ruins, but as far as he was aware, no one outside of the expedition party was aware of its existence. 

They all regarded the hunk of metal steaming in the middle of the room, now motionless. 

“A dwarven spider, they were used for manual labour and protection, hence its defensiveness” Aicantar explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “There was one leftover from the last expedition, I managed to get it working again but due to its damage it was uncontrollable and attacked anything on sight, the Jarl demanded that I destroy it and I put it down”. With a sigh the mer rose to his feet and lent against the table, his eyes carefully looking over her unconscious body. Corrilian noticed a look of distress in his eyes but remained silent. 

“When our expedition into the ruins was allowed I knew I had to find one still operating, I assumed that this time I would be able to control it if I could find the rest of its technology. I was right in some way, the one that wielded the staff could direct its energy and anger. We managed to get it back here without the Jarl finding out and I paid the guards extra for their silence. I messed around with the attunement sphere thinking if I replaced it with a soul gem it might have been easier to control and make more decisions without my guidance. It would only attack things it deemed a hostile threat, but then it started attacking guards just for their appearance in the museum, as if their swords alone were enough to register as a threat. I concealed it in my office, hoping that by keeping it there it would have prevented it from hurting anyone I --” Corrilian flinched slightly as the mer began to sob, unsure on how to react to his open display of emotions. 

Wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, Aicantar tearfully laughed, 

“ _ She _ told me to be careful, to look after myself. Said I was too tired and overworking myself, I was putting myself in danger, but instead I almost killed her” there was that look again, Corrilian pushed back the thought that there was something more to their friendship. He pulled himself to his feet and looked her over again. Her face was still but etched in pain, at least she was breathing, even if it was slow, shaky breaths. 

“You didn’t know this was going to happen Aicantar” the Khajiit had risen to her feet and reassured him, perhaps not the phrase that  _ he _ would have gone for. In his attempt to reach his uncle’s heights the foolish mer had jeopardised the Keep. 

The mer was murmuring out some self-deprecating response when Corrilian noticed the Khajiit had paused on her route back to them. 

“What’s wrong?” Corrilian’s tone remained calm, but the feelings of worry began to rise, surely there couldn’t be something else. 

She had crouched on the floor examining something, her nose wrinkling at the smell in disgust before explaining,

“This morning Larina complained of feeling sick, worried somehow that she might have caught the Affliction” at her words the two mer turned to face her, their expressions obviously of concern as she shook her head and explained, 

“I knew the chances of it were slim and I didn’t think she was but -”

“ _ But _ ” Corrilian urged her to continue. 

“She was pale and shaky, there was something definitely wrong with her, and there’s vomit on the floor here, I can only assume its  _ hers _ ” for a few seconds they waited in silence before Aicantar asked the inevitable, 

“What  _ colour _ ”. 

“ _ Purple _ …”. 

Corrilian raised his eyebrows in confusion, and repeated the Khajiit’s words. 

“Yes, amongst the contents of her food, the bile is purple, not a normal reddish colour or green like the Afflicted…. I think she ate some contaminated food” her tone sounded suspicious. For a brief moment Corrilian turned to face Aicantar, curious of the other mer’s reaction, seeing that he too was awash with confusion. 

“What are you trying to say Mina?” Aicantar’s shaky voice called out. 

“That I think the food might have been  _ poisoned _ ” she rose to her feet and faced them both, “She was lucky that she managed to throw up the contents of her stomach but if there’s any still lingering in her system, it could increase her risk of infection”. Her words caused his stomach to drop. Why would anyone in the Keep want to poison her? Unless someone had found out she was spying for him, which was surely impossible. But  _ he _ had put her in that danger and he needed to redeem it. 

Nodding, Corrilian turned to face Larina again before giving them all instructions, 

“Mina, you will help me take Miss Devereaux back to her room and begin cleaning her wound and giving her a draught of health,

Aicantar, go and inform the Jarl at once, tell him whatever you like about the dwemer spider if you don’t want to jeopardise your own work, but inform him is niece is seriously injured and needs help” Corrilian could not hide the spite in his words, the other mer remained silent but briefly nodded. 

Turning to see what Thonar was doing, he watched as the Nord was still kneeling beside his brother, motionless and silent. The effects of the calming spell were strong, but not that powerful, and he wondered what on Tamriel he was doing. 

“ _ Thonar _ ” Corrilian had to shout his name twice before the Nord finally looked up hazily. The man was no use to them now, perhaps in the grips of shock. Changing his mind Corrilian simply informed him to remain where he was with the body. 

As carefully as he could, Corrilian gently scooped Larina’s limp body into his arms, careful not to jostle her shoulder. For a brief moment her eyes flickered and she looked up at him, but there was no sign of clarity in them. Instantly his mind was drawn to old memories of fragile creatures and how he could not save them. He was not going to let her be broken again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Thongvor is dead, I wonder who will represent the Silver-Blood's in Markarth's court....
> 
> Alas I am a victim of the god machine and a need to move this plot forward. And what else can force an emotionally repressed mer to release he has feelings for such a clumsy Breton then by jeopardising her life! I had planned on uploading two chapters tonight to make up for not posting in a few days, but this chapter alone is 17 pages in a google doc, can you believe! You'll get two tomorrow I promise, it's practically already written! But for now enjoy <3


	33. Dreamstriding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of vigniettes..

She was running; that’s all that would make sense to her and her legs would not stop. The stone walls and golden machinery told her she was in the Keep but everywhere remained unfamiliar to her. One endless, long tunnel barely lit. Running through thick purple smog. Larina knew what she was running from. 

She could hear the distant, echoing clang of metal bouncing off the walls, the sickening sound of it skittering and scratching against the floor. She couldn’t even turn her head to see how close it was, even if she wanted to. She would have to keep running until her legs gave out. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“It’s been five days, I don’t really know what to suggest, she acts like she has a fever, her skin is burning to the touch, but she’s only responsive when she sleeps” the Khajiit lent against the stone table, nursing the cup of tea between her paws. “That Breton that watches over her tells me she cries out in the night, that something is following her”. 

Although he did not show it, Corrilian was too twitchy to rest at the table opposite her. Amongst both of their duties in the Keep, they had decided to meet privately in the empty room Larina had hoped would become a free space for them. A few days after this decision he had been surprised that Mina had taken her own spare time to clean it for purpose, laying out the mismatched rugs and cushions that had been left: they only met when the Keep retired for the evening. 

It was the only brief moment of time he could see the Khajiit and find out first hand what was happening with  _ her _ . Through magicka and potions the cut on her leg had closed with no infection, though it would leave a deep and long lasting scar, but the fact she still had not awoken from unconsciousness troubled them both. After the Jarl had cleared out the Warrens and the camps, only the court mages and a handful of guards were allowed to travel between Karthwasten and the city. But he was beginning to get the sneaking suspicion that in secret meetings the Jarl had been advised to clamp down even further. He knew who to blame too. Before his brother had even been interred in the Hall of the Dead, Thonar had taken his place at the Jarl’s side. 

It had been Thonar who advised the Jarl to allow him to send his mercenaries to clear out any bandit camp they found in the Reach, infected or not. The city had been silently outraged, knowing any form of criticism would have sent them to the mines. He was glad she was unconscious for that at least, she was sensitive to a fault, in some ways he found it admirable. 

“Did anything come back from the examinations of her vomit?” Corrilian asked, leaning against the opposite wall. After her suspicion he had asked to use the alchemy table in the room to investigate, too paranoid to allow her to continue this work in the laboratory, wondering if their suspicion could be true. If someone in the Keep suspected she was a spy and wanted to get rid of her, it put all of them in danger. 

“Yes actually….it was rather strange” the Khajiit rose from her chair and headed to the alchemy table to retrieve a bowl she had left there. It had been days since they brought her back to her room, after Mina was treated, she was left to the hands of an old servant of the Keep and her daughter. Watching over her with such staunch familial protection you would have thought she was her own mother. Only Daciana and Mina had managed to convince them to be allowed in. Since her husband’s decree, Daciana had refused to let Mina out of the Keep, turning her into their own personal healer if the need arose. 

“Those traces of purple I mentioned? I thought it was from the deathbell flower, turns out Daciana grows some in her hot house so it's hardly rare to come by in the Keep but” she shook her head. 

“ _ But _ ” Corrilian encouraged her to continue, his exasperation getting the better of him. 

“It would have acted faster than that on her and harder to trace, it's still part of the family, so her food must have been laced with wolfsbane or monkshood….it doesn’t make sense”.

But it did to him. 

Taking the bowl from her hands he demanded to know if she was certain. The Khajiit nodded,

“It's the only thing that would have lingered after reduction, but why would it be used as poison when it's so ineffective against humans? Only farmers use it now to keep wolves at bay.” 

He watched her confusion as he threw the contents of the bowl onto the fire before replying, 

“I think I know why”. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

She was running down the halls again, the purple fog thickening and almost choking her but finally she had the strength to call out for help, her own words echoing off the stone walls and bouncing back to her. She received no response, just the distant sound of clanging metal, scratching at the floors. 

Until the way began to lighten before her and she saw a shape begin to appear before her in the mist: Larina prayed to the divines that it was her salvation. Catching up to the dark shadow in the fog, she found a strange, dark furred wolf running alongside her. Weren't wolves predators? Why was it helping her, and why did it seem so familiar? Encouraging her on, they ran together through the thick purple haze, the sound of skittering metal getting closer. Another wolf joined her on the other side, as if guiding her in a direction that was invisible to her. They acted like they knew where to direct her, despite their path being one repeating corridor. 

She slowly realised that her surroundings began to change, the hall began to widen and brighten. Ahead of them a third wolf came bounding towards them, leaping forward and she flinched anticipating its attack. But instead it landed alongside her, before rising upon its hindlegs to charge what had been pursuing her. 

She finally held the ability to look behind her, to finally see what had been chasing her for so long, but the wolves at her side encouraged her ahead, kept her running until -- 

  
  


✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“By the  _ gods _ she’s finally awake, go quickly and fetch your mother” disoriented Larina began to look around, trying to understand where she was. Instinctively her arm raised again to defend herself, a dull wave of pain shooting through her shoulder until a gentle paw rested on her arm and lowered it slowly. 

“It’s okay Larina, you’re safe now” a warm feeling tingled through her body as she felt her body react and slump into her pillows. She heard Mina muttering something under her breath until she heard the dragging sound of a wooden chair being brought closer to her bed. With a slowly dawning clarity she realised where she was, safely back in her room. 

“What is the last thing you remember” Mina spoke softly, watching her with concern. She wasn’t sure, everything had blurred together as one. 

“Something in the hallway attacked me, I  _ think _ , and I had to run, I fell in the confusion and now I’m here” voicing her memories out loud made little sense, she didn’t need to see Mina’s confusion to know that. 

“It sounds like you’re a little confused between dreams and memories Larina” that gentle paw rested momentarily on her arm again. “You had gone to find Aicantar to tell him about them clearing about the Warrens remember? You went into the dwemer museum to find him but you and the guard there were attacked by a dwemer machine and barely survived” that would explain the dull ache of her body then. 

“I’m...not quite sure, what happened?” her words mumbled out, her mouth thick and dry. 

“Corrilian and the Silver-Blood men fought the machine off to save you, you had a deep wound in your leg which is thankfully healed now, concussed your head and dislocated your collarbone….a lot of work for a healer let me tell you” the Khajiit awkwardly chuckled. “But your body naturally fell into a coma to mend itself. We were concerned that you weren’t going to awake but…” she tentatively held back the last of her words. 

With an effort Larina turned to her to ask her to continue, 

“Well… Corrilian had an idea of what could be causing it, whatever he did worked though apparently”. 

“What on Tamriel are you doing, you shouldn’t be pestering her, she should be resting!” The older Breton’s voice filled the room as Voada rushed to her side. 

“Blessed are the gods” she exalted, tentatively grabbed Larina’s hand in her own. “We’ve been watching over you every night praying that you will awaken”. 

Larina smiled and asked for help to sit up, the three women shifting her pillows to secure her in an upright position. She realised she was dressed in her bedrobe but curiously it slipped off her shoulders, it had never been so loose before, in fact the opposite. Still disoriented and confused, Larina asked, 

“How long have I been unconscious, Voada?” the older Breton flashed a hesitant look towards the Khajit before answering. 

“Almost eleven days…”. At her words Larina tried to rise from the bed, even if she had the strength to push through the pain they wouldn’t have let her rise. Their voices rising, urging her to settle down and rest otherwise Mina would cast a spell on her again. Larina relented. 

“Eleven days…” Larina murmured, “gods, what have I missed?”. 

  
  


✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Despite the fact her awakening was now common news throughout the Keep, for the first three days her companions had only been Mina, Voada and her daughter, Esmie. She had learnt that Voada had summoned her daughter from Falkreath since her aunt had not allowed any more servants to tend to her, instead Voada employed her daughter without charge, hoping to oversee her recovery. Voada had staunchly denied any visitors whilst they helped her slowly recover and heal. She had been surprised still at how tired she was, even after being unconscious for so long. Most of her time between sleeping had been filled with eating or having her leg wound cleaned. She knew of its presence through the dull ache it had caused, but still hadn’t expected how badly it looked until it was revealed to her. From slightly below her hip to just above her knee, a ragged scar ran, mottled with bruised green flesh. Mina had reassured her it could have looked a lot worse, and in time the redness would fade. Every time they had removed the bandages to clean it, Larina averted her gaze. 

When Voada had brought her a large bowl of cheese and potato soup with fresh bread, the older Breton had to stop her from devouring it in one sitting. Its tantalizing smell reminded her of what hunger was. The older woman informed her that in her unconscious state they could only hand feed her thin porridge, milk and honey. They were glad she was awake and feeling hungry but knew she couldn’t rush herself. Even she was disappointed that she couldn’t finish the full bowl. 

After a few days she had managed to convince them to help her rise and walk to the bathing tub they had brought to her room. They caught her as she stumbled, after only a few cautious, pained steps forward and half carried her to the wooden tub. At her request Mina left the room, allowing the two Breton women to help her undress and bathe herself. They reassured her against her embarrassment, but when she asked them for a mirror to finally see what she looked like they refused. It worried her like her once too small bedgown that now hung off her frame. 

By the end of the week she was allowed her first visitor, surprised and disappointed that it was her aunt with a fresh bunch of flowers. By her bed a vase had been placed, filled with beautiful mountain flowers, lavender and snapdragons, she had wondered who they had been from. Her aunt demanded the two servants to leave the room, but instead they waited on Larina’s words, and reluctantly she asked them to leave. Their fierce protectiveness of her evidently annoyed her aunt who spat out, 

“Who do they think they are to ignore me in  _ my _ court” rolling her eyes in exasperation, Larina still hadn’t recovered the energy to express her annoyance but simply asked, 

“Why have you come to visit me?” her confusion at her aunt’s sympathy thinly hidden in her words. 

“I’m your _aunt, why_ wouldn’t i?’ her tone is heavy with annoyance. There were many reasons Larina could think of, her aunt was hardly a maternal figure. “We almost thought we lost you” surprised to hear the concern etched in her voice. 

“We may not agree on many things but you are my sister’s only child, family protects one another”. Larina had to restrain her emotions, if that was the case why had her aunt treated her this way for years?.

“Well I’m alright now” Larina sighed, awkwardly tugging at the threads on her blanket, “Voada says by the end of the week I’ll be strong enough to take a few short walks, I’m hoping to build up my strength and return to the laboratory as soon as possible”. 

Her wish was quickly interrupted by Daciana’s scoff, 

“Do you really think I’ll allow you to work with those dangerous fools again after what happened? A guard and Thongvor Silver-Blood  _ died _ , you could have been amongst them” her face flashed with anger. 

“I...I didn't know Thongvor died” Larina’s voice was quiet. They hadn’t told her much of the accident, since she had regained consciousness her nightmares did not plague her and they did not want to risk them coming back. She wondered how Thonar had reacted. 

“Hmm well the Keep mourned for them and Thonar has quickly adapted to filling in his brother’s role, the circumstances couldn’t be better for him” despite her aunt’s bluntness Larina knew what she implied. Despite his brother’s death the Silver-Blood’s were still one of the most powerful families in the Reach, and now Thonar wielded all of that power. 

Daciana rose from her chair and swapped the old flowers in the vase for the bunch she had brought with her. Larina’s mind flitted back to the morning of the Justiciar’s arrival and how she had sequestered away the old bunches of flowers to press later. She had never retrieved them. 

“Could I ask you for a favour?” at her words her aunt said nothing, waiting to see what she requested. 

“Instead of throwing those flowers away could you dry them for me to press? I need something to keep me occupied whilst Voada keeps me bedridden” Larina smiled, hoping her aunt would pity her in this state. 

“You want to press the flowers?” she was surprised to see her aunt’s features soften, wondering if her request had brought upon her memories of nostalgia.

“Alright I’ll have them dried and brought to you later” Daciana replied, before leaving the room and allowing Voada to re-enter. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

  
  


After a few days Larina’s strength had risen enough for her to steadily bring herself to her feet, supported by her bed frame, and walk around the room slowly, assisted by another. It was the gash on her leg that was slowing her down, though her shoulder dully ached it did not hinder her too much apart from getting in and out of bed. But she was stubborn and wanted to walk on her own, despite the warnings of what would happen if she had over exerted herself. Voada had helped her change out of her bedgown, its loseness reminding her of how weak she had been. It had not taken her long to figure out that in those days of unconsciousness she had lost weight, she could see it in the paleness of her skin and the slimming of her wrists. If anything it made her feel more fragile, as if each step she took would send her tumbling to the floor: in one moment where she had been stubborn and refused help, she had stumbled heavily onto the floor in her attempt to restoke her fire, adding to her culmination of bruises.

Without any protestations Voada had helped her change into one of her linen dresses, far too fancy for walking around the room and resting, but humoured her to keep her content. She would help her rise and move to the stone table to eat and then walk bed to bed and rest: those few steps already exhausting her. But arrangements had been made to keep her occupied and entertained during her confinement, a wooden tray had been brought to her to allow her to rest her sketching journal on her lap and draw studies of the flowers her aunt had brought her. Her sketches of Tholan had been removed and handed over to Calcelmo, and she tried to put the thought out of her mind. She could do nothing to help them from in here, and hoped her aunt’s threat was an empty one. She had helped them in their laboratory for almost three years without accident, and now some unfortunate accident that no one could have foreseen had removed her entirely from them. 

The door to her room groaned open and she did not look up, though Voada was early for bringing her some food, the older woman often came to keep her company in her solitude. Larina had actually had to beg her for a few hours of solitude to work on her own, with three different women fussing over her she didn't have a moment's peace to think. 

“Don’t be so foolish, do you really think I’m going to trust  _ you _ with whatever contraption you’re bringing in here, you’re the reason she’s bedbound!” the older woman’s words had caught her attention, she must be talking to Aicantar. 

“Voada is it Aicantar, please let him in” the older woman’s silence told her that she had been heard. Hearing a reluctant sigh, from her position on the bed Larina watched as Voada opened the door further, allowing the mer to shuffle in, carrying something strange with him.

“This is a terrible idea” she heard the breton mutter. 

He asked for Voada to move a small wooden table to the foot of her bed and placed down the covered object with a strange, metallic clang. The awkward grinning expression on his face soon faded when he took in her pale countenance, propped upwards with pillows. 

“I’m not as bad as I was before,” Larina reassured him, seeing the look of concern upon his face. “It’s tiring but I can now walk around the room almost by myself! I’m sure I will come bother you in the laboratory in no time” sensing his unease still she gestured for him to take the empty stool beside her bed. 

“I don’t blame you Aicantar,” she could see the faint shimmer of tears in his eyes. 

“You  _ should” _ he pulled down the hood of his robes revealing the rest of his face. His golden skin had taken on a paleness and his face had narrowed. It appeared he still wasn’t getting any sleep. 

“It was the spider I wanted to show you, remember how I promised you my discovery from the ruins was worth waiting to see?” he sniffed. 

“I have to say apart from killing two others and almost killing me, It was pretty impressive!” hoping to lift his spirits, it had elicited a small chuckle at least. 

“I shouldn't have gone in there without your permission either, so really the blame is on me too” Larina added, knowing he would have ignored those words anyway. 

“So what is that infernal thing?” Voada asked, leaning on the back of the mer’s chair. At her words he sprung to his feet again, glad of a reason to lighten the mood. 

“An  _ apology _ ” Aicantar explained, before whipping the covering away with a flourish. 

Before her on the table stood a large golden cage, made out of dwemer metal: but unlike the other contraptions she had seen, the metal was far thinner, intricately melded. Facing towards her was an opening, and as she peered forward at the gap in the bars, she noticed two little song birds sat on a perch. 

As she was about to ask what exactly it was, Aicantar summoned a small bolt of electricity to the small red gemstone that sat in its base. As soon as it lit up the little birds sprung to life, juddering from side to side. Opening their mouths they began to whittering a song in unison, a little tin melody in key. 

Larina could not contain her happiness, her smile spread across her face, and she knew that even Voada was impressed. Aicatnar turned the gemstone again, bringing their song to a steady halt. 

“The spell charges the powerstone enough for a few hours I should think, but I can charge it again if need be” , his expression happy with her reaction. 

“Did you find this in the ruins?” Larina asked, wondering if he had dragged it back with his death machine amongst fighting the falmer. 

Aicantar shook his head, explaining,

“No it was part of the machinery that had been abandoned in the museum when I had arrived, just like the timepieces really, nobody really thought they were important enough to tinker with compared to the powerful machinery and weaponry. But I thought if you were bedbound for a while it might cheer you up”. If she could have risen from the bed she would have to hug him, but instead she had to settle for gesturing for him to sit beside her again. 

His present had worked like a charm on Voada who had allowed him to linger for longer at her bedside that she had allowed Daciana. But no matter how much Larina tried to direct the conversation to what was going on in the camps outside the walls, Aicantar directed them away again. Instead he spoke of the weather in the Reach, of how she had missed the large storm that had scared them into thinking the city’s river was going to flood, or of how during her little naps in the laboratory Mina would purr in her sleep. 

The thought of it made her smile until she remembered her aunt’s words. 

“Daciana says I won’t be able to set foot in the laboratory again, that this just proves it's too dangerous there” she sniffed slightly at her own words. 

“I know…” Aicantar replied, not meeting her gaze. “I think your aunt might be right” but hearing her protestations he added, “maybe a few weeks away from the laboratory until you’ve properly healed might not be such a bad idea?”. 

Larina said nothing but pouted, she had hoped he would be on her side. Aicantar tried to return to their previous conversation but Larina remained annoyingly silent until Voada had encouraged him politely to leave. 

She had heard the older Breton murmur to him at the door that she was probably tired and not to worry, and Larina began to feel a tiny bit guilty for sulking. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“I am sure if she can walk around the room, she’ll manage down the corridor” Mina reassured Voada, trying to avoid Larina’s ecstatic gaze. After almost a week of being trapped in her room, she was finally able to leave on a short walk. 

“If she struggles or falters at all you bring her back” Voada resigned with a sigh and between them they shakingly brought Larina to her feet. Dressed in her grey linen dress and a shawl for warmth, Larina steadily headed towards the parlour room, leaning heavily on Mina for support. The door had already been left ajar by Mina before they had arrived, 

“I thought it was something that might cheer you up,” she purred, before helping her through the threshold. 

Larina was surprised to see the room had been cleaned and slowly decorated with the leftover pieces of fabric and furniture from the bathing rooms. The hearth was already lit and burning, and incense hung in the air. 

“Mina this is amazing, it looks so lovely” Larina beamed as the Khajiit slowly directed her to a chair towards the back of the room. In the entrance an enchanting and alchemy table had been set up, supported by shelves covered in books, bowls and gemstones - catching the light. Closer towards the balcony large cushions had been scattered on the floor with rugs and chairs large enough to lean back and sleep on. Amongst the pillows Larina noticed a strange glass object that resembled a vase, only with a series of pipes protruding from, but she said nothing. 

“It’s a shame I couldn’t help you” Larina sighed, “did you do this all on your own?” 

Mina shook her head, 

“Actually Corrilian helped me, I told him I thought it would be a nice surprise for you” something about her words struck her as off. She remembered Mina’s words from days before, warning her about spending too much time with the altmer. 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way Mina” Larina sighed, “but are you working for him?”. The Khajiit paused mid-sentence, figuring out what to say. 

“Are you spying for him?” she asked gently, “I wouldn’t be surprised not now, I got the impression you knew I was too”. At her words, Mina sunk into the pillows opposite with a resigned sigh. 

“Yes… not until I came to the Keep though” Mina sighed, “he wanted ears in the laboratory knowing you wouldn’t tell him anything” she regarded her cautiously. 

“He was right about that” Larina laughed softly, “so you’re spying on the mages, I’m spying on Thonar, who else do you think we have in our midst” Larina grinned. 

“It’s really not like that” Mina stammered, but Larina shrugged at her words, “I don’t think they’re doing anything wrong to gain the Justiciar’s attention” she added, wondering what she had been bribed with for her involvement. 

After a few moments of awkward silence, Larina asked, 

“So what have I missed whilst I’ve been unconscious, Voada is reluctant to tell me” she rolled her eyes at the words, as if any more horrors could add to her trauma. 

“Nothing good” Mina flashed her a look of concern. “We were unable to prevent them from clearing out the Warrens or the refugee camps outside the walls. Instead two new camps have been erected, at Karthwasten and Kolskegger. If you appear healthy you can return to the town and cultivate the farms or the mines. If you’re sick you're in Kolskegger until you can’t move” Mina’s words shocked her. 

“Are you telling me there were more cases of the Afflicted?” Larina asked in concern, assuming that was the case if they had separated the groups and forced them into the mines. 

“No...” Mina shook her head resignedy, “they’re taking any symptom as proof of the affliction, high temperatures or what they deem  _ erratic _ behaviour” Mina explained before adding, 

“Thonar’s mercenaries cleared out the rest of the bandit and forsworn camps in the Reach and he’s taken complete control of Kolskegger mine. Those that weren’t put to the blade were sent to work down the mines” Larina could not hide her disgust at her words, of course that skeever had taken advantage of the crisis, had her uncle learnt nothing? 

“And the students?” Larina asked, sensing Mina’s trepidation on the subject. 

“We are certain Tholan has died, but given the circumstances Calcelmo and Aicantar are reluctant to reveal that information, they fear the students who have appeared otherwise healthy might be condemned to the mines” Mina sighed. 

Larina’s mind reeled and what she had missed, feeling somewhat useless. 

“Have they thought of a plan?” she asked hopefully, knowing that Aicatnar would not have let this slip by. 

Mina shifting awkwardly on her pillow for a moment, appearing to contemplate what she was about to reveal. Even though there was no one around them, the Khajiit lowered her voice as she revealed, 

“Aicantar said he spoke to a traveller, a Bosmer woman, passing through the Reach who had been stopped by the guards on the road, supposedly some sort of spellsword. Said she had spoken with a Khajiit in the mountains who had given her the ability to speak to the daedra Peryite and revealed where this affliction is coming from, it might not be a disease after all” Mina’s words intrigued her and she pressed her further in her revelations. 

“Aicantar is going to scope it out, if he can prove that this problem is man made and not an uncontrollable disease, he might be able to save my friends” Larina was surprised by her friend’s enthusiastic hope, her own recent experiences somewhat corrupting hers. But Aicantar had thought this was a good plan, they had to trust him. 

“Let’s hope so…” Larina murmured in return. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Her walks were tiring her out less as each day passed, but she was glad to finally be on her bed curled up with her book of folk tales and had asked Voada for another pot of tea. As her strength was growing she wondered if little requests were annoying the older woman, but if it did she did not say anything. Despite remembering what happened last time, Larina shakingly pulled herself to her feet and slowly trudged over to her hearth to add another log to the fire: she felt the cold more now. Once she was finally able to join the rest of them in the dining hall, she would just have to mimic her uncle’s appetite to regain the weight she had lost. 

She had only just made it back onto her bed, comfortably arranging herself amongst the pillows and blankets, only for Voada to return empty handed. Larina watched curiously as she crept towards her bed and murmured, 

“The Justiciar is outside and wishes to see you, I could tell him you are sleeping?” her eyes flashed with concern, and she wondered what worried Voada so much about his presence. It had been almost a full week since she had awakened and he hadn’t yet come to see her, there was a lot she wanted to say to him.

“No it’s fine Voada, bring him in” she smiled faintly, glad at least that the older woman had helped her dress in one of nicer linen dresses. 

Voada opened the door to her room and gestured for the Justiciar to enter, although he was without his thalmor robe, he wore a long-sleeved, high collared dark jacket of similar colourings. She wondered what his aversion to wearing his official uniform was. They had never seen Ondolemar in nothing but his hooded robes. 

“You are looking far better than the last time I saw you” he finally spoke, pausing at the foot of her bed and offering her a small bow of his head, she could see Voada lingering hestantily behind. 

“I guess it is you I have to think for being alive” Larina smiled faintly, “Mina informed me it was your healing spell that had stopped me bleeding out in the museum”. There was no missing the twitch in his cheek before he replied,

“The Khajiit undermines the effort she provided” clearly not keen on accepting her compliment. For a moment they lingered in silence until his gaze was drawn to the golden cage at the foot of her bed. 

“An apology present from Aicantar,” Larina explained, “if you turn the power stone at the bottom of the cage the birds will sing!” she smiled remembering the melody. She had played it that often that Voada had begged her for a respite. 

“I’m actually here to speak to you about something officially” Corrilian spoke, bringing his steady gaze to her face. She was disappointed but not surprised, if his usual personality was anything to go by she couldn’t imagine his bedside manner was much improved. 

“I would suggest you leave questioning her until she’s much better” Voada chided, brushing past him to stand at Larina’s side, maternally defensive. 

“Unfortunately I cannot, it is quite important” his cool tone piqued her interest, wondering what was so important. 

Larina offered her hand shakingly to Voada and slowly pulled herself to her feet, 

“It’s alright Voada, I am sure the Justiciar will assist me to the balcony, it’ll be nice to get some fresh air and you said yourself you needed to turn down the bed” hoping to reassure the older woman. Voada reluctantly agreed, wrapping a shawl around her shoulder and assisting her to the Justiciar. 

Her arm gently tucked into his, he walked slowly as she limped towards the balcony door. There was no point in her sinking down onto her floor cushion, she doubted she would be able to return to her feet again. Instead she leant against the stone railing, cramped in the space between them. She remembered what had happened the last time they had stood there, his hand cupping her face and the feeling of his lips against hers: she wondered if he thought of it too. Her breath fogged in the cool air before them, the storm Aicantar mentioned had dropped the temperature and she was glad that Voada had wrapped her in her shawl. 

“I meant it before Corrilian when I thanked you for saving me, you can accept the compliment without passing it off onto someone else” she murmured, surprised at her own words. 

For a moment in sounded like he stalled in his response as he replied, 

“I just acted on instinct” there were so many different ways she could interpret his response, why did he have to be so obtuse all the time? 

With a defeated sigh she asked, 

“What was so important that you had to see me?” not hiding the frustration in her voice. 

“Mina already explained to me why you had gone to the museum, and I can only assume what happened thereafter...don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to recount it again” those last words came out slowly, tenderly, and she wondered where he was going with his questioning. 

“What doesn’t make sense is why you were ill that morning” At his words Larina tilted her head in curiosity, only Mina knew that she had been feeling so sick, and wondered why she had told him. 

“I don’t know…” Larina murmured, trying to remember those days before, “I guess I must have ate some bad food, although I did foolishly think it was the Affliction” she laughed softly at her own stupidity. 

“What do you mean by  _ bad _ food” he questioned him further, “what was wrong with it?”.

Larina tried to remember, had anything actually been wrong with it. His steadfast gaze on her face was making it hard to concentrate. 

“No… the food wasn’t rotten or anything but - well it's silly really” the problem that morning had finally reoccured to her but the Justiciar encouraged her on. 

“Well it wasn’t  _ my _ breakfast” she bit her lip cautiously wondering if she sounded silly but explained, 

“I always have the same breakfast, fruit with honeyed bread and honey mead but this was completely different, bread with meats and cheeses”. 

Corrilian nodded at her words and replied, 

“That is an unbelievably sweet breakfast” and she was surprised to see a faint smile on his mouth, “but I believe the breakfast you ate was  _ mine _ ” his face clouded over again, wondering why the thought of her stealing his breakfast made him brood again. 

“Well I guess I apologise for stealing your breakfast then” she joked softly, hoping to ease the mood. “I guess I would have left it really but I was hungry and I didn’t want to get Joric in trouble for getting it all wrong”.

“The issue isn’t that you  _ stole _ my breakfast” his tone was devoid of humour, and she worried what concerned him. “The issue is that you ate poisoned food intended for me”. 

His words hit her like a punch to the gut as she tried to understand what he said. 

“Someone tried to poison you?” even as she said them out loud, the words did not make sense. She watched as he had unfolded his arms from his chest and lent against the wall, leaning over to view the drop before them. 

“They obviously didn’t try hard enough” Larina murmured, catching his expression of concern. “I’m serious,” she added, shifting awkwardly. “Whatever they had poisoned the food with wasn’t strong enough to kill me, it just made me sick. I doubt that it could have killed you either”. 

“I don’t think the intention was to kill me” Corrilian murmured before closing the gap between them, gently 

“I’m going to give you this one opportunity Larina, but if you want to stop spying for me- well the Dominion, I would understand”. Larina exhaled a shaky breath, surprised by his candidness, as he gently gripped her wrist in his own hand.. 

She shook her head, pushing herself out of his grasp, almost stumbling in the process. “You had no concern for my well being when you offered me up to Thonar to spy, so why now?” her frustration was clear in her words. 

With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair and murmured, 

“I think you can understand why”, there was that damned obtrusiveness again. 

“No Corrilian, I don’t…” for once her voice was clear and strong. “But to answer you I  _ will  _ continue to work for you, so I suggest you start taking my request to leave this city more seriously” as adamant as she tried to sound, her voice shaked from the energy she exerherted. The Justiciar remained silent but perhaps he saw the shake in her arms as he approached her, hoping to guide back into the warmth of her room. Larina shook off his support and achingly shuffled back into her room. 

  
  
  


✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“I am quite surprised you summoned us to join you Larina '' Thonar drawled, leaning against the doorway between her bedroom and entrance **.** He did not appear to be a man in grieving. She had summoned him and Liesel to her room under the guise of finishing off the portrait. 

“All I can do with this free time is draw, and I think I’ve worked my way through all the flowers of the Keep” catching Liesel’s eye, she smiled at the young nord gently. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Larina had managed to convince Voada to allow her to spread an old blanket over her bed and allowed her to add colour to the portrait finally: it still wasn’t comfortable for her to sit upright at the table for too long, most of her pain now had ebbed away, but the bruises were still tender. 

“I am so glad you’re alright Larina” Liesel smiled fondly, the young girl had brought her flowers and pastries as a treat, the small act of kindness had filled Larian with happiness. Outside the grip of her cousin, Liesel was genuinely a kind and affectionate girl, but in some small way she pitied her. 

Larina had offered her condolences for the loss of Thongvor, but only Liesel had responded in sadness, perhaps it had been a topic too sensitive to touch. 

She was glad too, that most of the work had been done in the brighter light of the great hall, but she had still given up her entire day to finish the portrait. Thonar had brought Liesel along and left them to it for a few hours before rejoining them in the afternoon. 

Larina had made the most of that time to genuinely find out more about the little nord, her dreams and aspirations, disappointed slightly that her only plan in life was to marry some nobleman in the Reach rather than to get away. 

“Do you not want to see more of Skyrim?” Larina had asked, painting the wheat yellow of her hair. 

“Father says the bigger cities are full of murderers and degenerates, but there’s nowhere safer than Markarth” Larina had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes, Markarth was no different than anywhere else it would seem. But still she yearned for a life outside of the walls, despite the possible dangers. 

“I would quite like a little wooden cottage on the plains,” Larina had smiled “growing flowers and tending chickens”.

“It sounds too boring for me” Liesel had laughed, “too quiet”. 

“Perhaps quiet isn’t a bad thing” Larina had murmured back. 

When Thonar had returned to them, Liesel had tried to show him the gilded bird cage at the foot of Larina’s bed but he was uninterested. Insead he had remarked to his surprise that she had trusted Aicantar with what he brought into her room after the last time: Larina bit her tongue and said nothing. Carefully she had shown him the finished portrait of his daughter, careful not to smudge the still wet paint. 

“Once it has tried I might add a varnish to it for protection, and then it's yours to keep and frame” Larina had smiled, regarding her own portrait with pride. Though his daughter took more after him, Larina had styled Liesel with her mother’s fuller cheeks, making her appear more lively, adding a brightness to her eyes. Clutching a bunch of flowers in her hands, and the loose waves that fanned around her face, Liesel looked the very image of a Divine. 

“I’m almost sorry to part with it” Larina had half-joked, regarding the hours she had sacrificed for it. 

“I am sure there is a way you can see it on a regular basis” Thonar murmured to her, before demanding his daughter leave them to get ready for the evening. Now that her strength had improved, Voada had left her on her own more often in the evenings, only coming back to check on her every few hours. All of a sudden she felt incredibly vulnerable. 

“Actually there is something I wanted to ask you” Larina stammered out the words as Thonar dragged the empty wooden chair closer to her bed. 

“Go on” he asked, a sly grin etching across his face. 

“It has been suggested that I take a leave of work in the laboratory for my own safety” even now those words sounded ridiculous to her, the expression on Thonar’s face suggesting he agreed with her words. 

“I need something to motivate myself, I can’t be stuck in the Keep everyday whilst everyone works, I'd like to take you up on your offer if it's still available?”.

A cunning look quickly spread across his face as he replied, 

“There is always a space open for you in my household Larina dear, come see me as soon as you’re ready. I have a feeling my work will pick up in the upcoming weeks”. She directed him to leave the portrait on the stone table as he left, wondering what he had meant. 

Larina retrieved the book from her bed stand and began to read, waiting for Voada to return in the evening with her dinner tray. At her request Voada would eat her evening meal with her, indulging her need for companionship: jealous that the rest of the Keep would dine together and enjoy each other’s company. 

Like usual the older Breton came to see her before preparing their meals, checking to see how her appetite was and what she might have preferred to eat. 

“You look rather shaken my dear” Voada had loomed over her, concerned by her appearance. 

“I think I might have just over exerted myself” Larina sighed, hoping the older woman wouldn’t mistake it for pain again and force her to drink some of that vile healing potion. 

As the older breton turned to leave, Larina called out for her to wait, 

“Actually Voada, could you take this note to the Justiciar for me?” and Larina reached out with a folded piece of paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the end of this chapter, supposedly a month has almost passed. You know I actuallly have a google docs timeline going so I don't lose track of the time in the hopes of not rushing their relationship? Is that silly? 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with anyways <3


	34. Tender is the night

She had wondered if Voada had passed on her note at all, as they ate their meals at her stone table: Voada had brought her fish and potatoes, her meal consisted of the same. Now that more than a week had passed and she found it easier to move around her room, Larina preferred to eat her meals at her table rather than in her bed, attempting to return to normality. When that had first started eating together the older woman joked that she was eating better now than she ever did. Larina was just glad of the company. 

“You seem quiet tonight my dear, is everything alright?” Voada watched her from across the table. 

“I’m just tired,” Larina sighed. “I guess I’m just anxious to return to some normalcy”. The older Breton had watched as she pushed her food around her plate.

“You can’t rush these things my dear” Voada had reassured her, “what’s a few more days recuperating?”. Larina didn’t want to tell her she was bored out of her mind, the Justiciar’s warning earlier echoing to her. She had been caught in the crossfire in an attempt on his life, if he died then her way out of the city was lost. She had to find who was responsible. 

At Voada’s encouragement she finished her meal, and found herself missing the rest of the court. Of course those moments of teasing and arguments weren’t missed, but these walls were driving her crazy. 

“Would you like me to sit with you and read tonight?” Voada had asked whilst clearing their plates onto a tray but Larina politely shook her head. 

“I think I’m alright tonight Voada, I’ll probably read for a while and get an early night” she had no idea if the Justiciar would come, let alone _when_ : it would have been awkward to explain to the woman if she was here when he appeared. 

“Would you like a hand in changing?” Larina shook her head and replied, 

“I think I can manage on my own actually” hoping her smile was convincing. Voada shrugged as she opened the door before taking the tray with her and bidding her goodnight. On slow, unsteady feet Larina walked towards the door and closed it behind her. She was getting stronger and she hoped that in a day or two she would be able to leave her room properly. 

  
  


Larina curled up on her bed with her book, daring to position her injured leg in one other than directly straight out: she had sat so straight for days and knew the only way she could move herself again was if she pushed those muscles. She tried to focus on the words but found herself listlessly turning through the pages: it was strange to her that she missed the court. If the time on her pocket watch was correct, they’d all be heading to the dinning hall by now. Perhaps there was no way the Justiciar could justify paying her a visit in the evening, if someone in the Keep was keeping a watchful eye over him, he would have to be careful. She knew it had to be Thonar, no one in the Keep was that dangerous or power mad: but even so, to attempt to poison the Justiciar was a foolish thing. There was no way her uncle would be able to keep his head from the execution block this time. 

Carefully Larina pulled herself to her feet to remove her dress and change into her bedgown, regretting not asking for Voada’s assistance. So desperately she wanted her independence back, but here she was struggling with the fascenings on the back of her dress. After a few minutes of fumbling she had freed herself, rendered breathless by the task. For a moment she paused fully nude by the side of her bed, wondering how her figure looked now. Had she lost whatever womanly shape she had before? Those mottled green bruises still lingered and caught the eye. Larina draped her cotton dress over the edge of her bed and pulled her bedgown over her head: at least with her recent weight loss she wouldn’t need to buy anymore clothes. 

Returning to her bed, Larina wrapped herself in her blankets and returned to her book, waiting to see if sleep or Corrilian visited her first. 

She had fallen into a light sleep when she heard the telltale groan of her bedroom door open, and the faint sound of footsteps at the entrance. For a brief second she panicked, wondering who her intruder could be before she reminded herself. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, there was no other way I could leave the court until it was time to retire” Corrilian drawled, but approached her bed hesitantly. 

Larina wondered how long she had been dozing, waiting for him to come, pulling herself into a sitting position. The collar of her gown hung loosely off her shoulder, exposing more skin than was acceptable: his gaze made her cheeks flush, wondering if it was her bruises that had caused him to look away. 

“I was surprised you came at all” Larina sighed, and Corrilian flashed her an unplaceable as he settled into the empty chair beside her bed, crossing one long leg over his knee. 

“I was curious to know why you summoned me, is it to do with your meeting with Thonar this afternoon” Larina’s eyebrows rose in surprise, wondering if he had spies on her as well.

“Actually no…. we need to have that conversation don’t we?” she had built herself up to it all afternoon, questions she had to pose to him, she wasn’t going to let him slip by this easily again. 

“You really want to talk about this now?” Corrilian mused, shifting in his chair. 

Larina nodded, 

“I wanted to know what you meant by other forms of reward. You know I don’t want money, and you can’t exactly guarantee my safety apart from getting me out of the city” something about her words caused him to flinch, she worried that she had hit a nerve. 

“The fact I couldn’t protect you is the reason why I want you to stop” he murmured, his words surprising her. 

“I think you have more important things to worry about than _me_ ” Larina softly joked, watching his expression cloud. 

“Believe me if there was any other option -” he stopped himself before he finished his sentence and rose to his feet. 

“You asked about my other _indiscretions,_ do you remember?” he asked, not looking at her but instead the golden cage at the end of her bed: Larina hummed her response. 

“They weren’t courtships,” Corrilian explained cooly, “in exchange for information they were rewarded in _other_ ways, but my appetites weren’t what you could call normal” those words made the hairs on her arms stand up. 

“I thought we could come to the same agreement, but I dared not risk your safety like that” finally he turned to face her, a look of apprehension upon his face. 

“As much as I’d want to, you’re too fragile, I could hurt you. The attack in the dwemer museum has proven to me that I couldn’t stand that happening”. Corrilian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“So what do we do” Larina murmured, weighing his confession. She remembered how rough his kiss had been, and though she wanted it again she wondered what he had meant by his _appetites_. His concern for her well being shocked her too, 

Corrilian lingered at the foot of her bed, daring not come closer but watching her with heavy eyes again. 

“Whatever you want...it appears I am at _your_ mercy” his words causing her stomach to twist. 

For a moment she thought before replying, 

“I’d like you to read for me” and she reached for his poetry book that had remained on her bedside table. A strange smirk flitted across his face, and Larina thought that he might have taken it off her and sunk back into that wooden chair. Instead she watched curiously as he removed his black cloak, draping it across the back of the chair and removed his boots. In one fluid motion he crept onto the bed, gently positioning himself behind her, his right leg raised against the edge of her bed like a barrier: with one guiding hand on her stomach he pulled her back gently so she was resting against his chest, her head resting against his shoulder and for a brief moment she felt his lips softly touch the side of her head. 

He opened the poetry book on her lap and began skimming through it. 

“I think I would like to learn aldmeris, it could perhaps come in useful” Larina breathed softly, only to receive a chuckle in return,

“I’d rather not listen to you butcher my language tonight” his breath teased in her ear. Larina’s cheeks flushed red and she nodded in response, settling herself against his firm body, his warmth. He smelt like woodfire and spiced brandy. 

Softly in her ear he began to murmur the words on the page, as she relaxed against him. 

“Perhaps this can be my reward” Larina sighed, turning her head to look up at him. His pupils full in his golden eyes as he took her chin in his hand and murmured, 

“If you want” before raising her lips to his own. This time there was no biting as he slowly moved his mouth against hers, when he broke it away it was only to press soft kisses across her jawline. 

“Between this wretched city and you I’m going insane” he finally murmured, his hand tangling softly in her hair. 

“I’m just as surprised that I am to blame” she flushed, unable to meet his gaze. Larina settled back against him as he tenderly stroked her hair, enjoying the strength of him behind her. 

Daring to seize the moment and know more about him, Larina probed,

“You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you, could you not tell me something?”.

“Do you really want to know?” he sighed, a faint hint of annoyance in his tone, before adding, “go ahead”. 

She hadn’t expected him to agree, and stalled for a moment, distracted by his warmth and his hand in her hair. 

“Your mother who gave you that book, is she still alive?”. She received a murmured _no_ in her ear. 

“And your father?”. 

“Still very much alive, unfortunately” he sighed, but she did not press any further, quickly realising it was a sensitive topic. 

“Any siblings?” 

“You really are inquisitive” she could feel his smile in the kiss he pressed gently into her neck. 

“No siblings, I was an only child”. 

“Was it not lonely growing up? My brother really was my closest friend” Larina imagined what his childhood had been like. 

“No different than the upbringing of the rest of my kind” something in his tone sounded off but she chose not to press it. Her hand moved to his hand that had returned to her lap and tenderly traced circles upon it: her fingers brushed at the silver ring on his thumb, the one that had been his gift on arrival. 

“I’m surprised you are still wearing it” Larina murmured, playing with it idly: the ring shifted slightly on his thumb, revealing a red line against his golden skin. 

“It looks like it's hurting you” her voice was weighted with concern, “perhaps you shouldn’t wear it”. 

Corrilian removed his hand from her grip, replying, 

“Probably a reaction to unrefined metal, I continue to wear it out of politeness”. There was something about his answer that sounded so thinly veiled, but he had indulged her so far and she did not want to push it further. 

  
  


“Can I ask you something?” his hand had begun to gently caress her leg, moving the abandoned the book in her lap aside, Larina gave him a brief nod, distracted by the presence of his hand. 

“When you were unconscious what did you dream of?”.

“Oh” she replied, shifting slightly to look up at him. “Well for a long time I was being chased through the halls of the Keep by what I thought was the machine behind me, until -”

“ _Until_ ” he probed, bribing her with a gentle kiss to her cheek. 

“I was saved by a wolf” she laughed slightly, turning her face towards him, “like Potema or Hircine had leapt to my defence, although it was bigger and didn’t move like the wolves” the more she thought of it, there was something about the wolf that appeared strange to her, even in her dreamscape. 

“I’ll have to thank them on your behalf then,” he murmured in her ear, nipping at her lobe. 

He kissed her again, gentle at first but increasing in dizzying intensity: but this time Larina bit his bottom lip, wondering how it would make him feel, the faint taste of copper scaring her that she had bitten him too hard. 

“I am so _sorry_ ” Larina breathed, pulling her lips anyway from him, eyes wide in concern.

Corrilian wiped his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, before flashing her a look of hunger before murmuring, 

“If you weren’t so fragile...” her cheeks instantly flushing red at his words, her mouth hanging slightly agape. Corrilian laughed softly before planting a quick kiss on her lips. As much as she wanted to continue kissing him, she did not argue when he gently positioned her back against him again, retrieving the discarded book and reading again: unknowingly lulling her into a relaxed sleep. 

  
  


✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

She was running again, but this time she wasn’t trapped in some unrecognised, endless corridor of the Keep. Instead she was outside, confused whether she was somewhere she knew or if the years trapped inside a stone city had decayed her memories. A red full moon lit the sky, guiding her way through the forest, brighter than she knew was naturally possible. 

She was wearing what she thought was her nightgown, but the white material was too long, too free, too flowing: and too sheer. She felt her hair unravel from the bun on her head, tumbling around her face but not obscuring her view - she could feel the wind blowing through it. The slight rainfall on her skin, and the wet ground under her feet almost convinced her this was real. She felt wild, untamed and free. 

There was a thundering sound behind her, but instead of encroaching metal it was the heavy thud of footfall catching up with her: she quickly realised there were two wolves running at her side. They had names, she knew they did, and she wondered how she recognised them, and them her. They weren’t guiding her from a threat or trying to save her, they were all running free. 

She extended her arms, feeling the breeze rush by her as she called out in exhilaration, until she heard the footfall of something else, something _larger_. Another wolf running alongside them, but hidden by the thicker trees, was it a wolf? It didn’t look like it was running on four legs and it was getting closer….

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

“Shhh it's alright, it's just a dream” the soothing voice in her ear reassured her as she tried to sit upright, prevented by the searing pain in her shoulder. As the room came into focus again, Larina realised that Corlian was kneeling beside her on the floor, his face etched with concern, his hand moving gently to brush away the hairs that were stuck to her forehead. 

“It appears we both fell asleep” he murmured before rising to his feet and retrieving his discarded boots. “It’s a good thing you began fidgeting in your sleep and talking..” his sentence remained unfinished. If she hadn’t woken him up with her dream then Voada might have found them when she came to check on her for breakfast. A small part of her wondered if that was such a bad thing, disappointed that she didn’t get to wake to find him lying beside her. Larina wondered what he looked like whilst he slept. 

“Were are you running through the halls again?” Corillian asked as he pulled on his boots. 

“Not this time,” Larina rubbed her bleary eyes, “I was running with wolves in the forest back home, I guess I got lost and panicked” she wondered why she had lied to him. He quickly joined her side again, his hands pressing into the bed either side of her pillow. Looking into his eyes she realised he was still hazy with sleep, his normally kept hair slightly rakish. 

“I’m not used to sharing a bed with others,” Corrilian murmured before pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, “it was surprisingly pleasant….even if you were too restless” a slight smile took over his lips: standing upright again, he pulled the blanket over her, covering her gooseflesh skin before heading towards her bedroom door. 

Larina shifted in her bed, turning on her side to face him and called after,

“Does this mean you’ll do it again?” to her her words sounded distant and heavy with sleep, she felt her eyes begin to droop with tiredness again as she realised he had paused in the doorway to watch her for a moment: no idea that her sleepy bedroom eyes were calling him back. 

She wondered if she had heard him murmur “ _perhaps_ ” or dreamt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one night!! i did spend a good idea reminding myself of the timeline of events so I could reach the next plot points accurately 
> 
> also lowkey to be honest, if this was a modern au, Corrilian would be one of those soft dom sad boys with constant bags under his eyes, looking like he ate cigarettes and coffee for breakfast, who was into kinky stuff and as long as you were cool with it. (because let's be honest, we need healthier kink representations then 50 shades and fake online doms!). But also what does the writer know? she's finally off meds and had a glass of brandy (damn you Corrilian!!) and editing in this state! :D
> 
> \--this chapter has been edited for minor spelling/grammar mistakes--


	35. Dreary courts

It had taken the rest of the weekend before Larina was able to convince Voada that she should be allowed to finally leave the confines of her room and join the rest of the Keep, at least for the evening meal and socialising afterwards. She had walked from her room with Mina for support to the parlour room and back again, and with Mina’s support they had convinced Voada she would be spending the rest of the evening seated anyway. 

“Don’t you think you are rushing things?” Voada had replied, her old face heavy with concern. 

“It’s been almost two weeks” Larina groaned, “not counting the time I was unconscious, I’ve been in that room almost a month” and she was starting to go crazy. That afternoon Mina had joined them, updating her on the camps - where very little had changed - much to Voada’s chagrin, and her daughter Esmie: they were sat around her stone table with Voada teaching her how to embroider little flowers - Larina disappointed that she was unable to pick it up. 

“I thought you were supposed to be artistic” Mina had teased, only for Larina to playfully pull a face back. 

“The needle is too small!” she had huffed, fumbling threading it in her grasp. 

When she had finally convinced Voada of her plan, she had asked to have a long bath to freshen up her appearance, not wanting to appear frail or sickly. Voada had relented, only with the demand that she would escort her en route and wait outside until she was finished, something Larina deemed a fair compromise. Soaking in the hot water she had thought about her night with the Justiciar, he had not visited him since and she had not summoned him. Despite her strange dreams she had slept peacefully, perhaps it was his presence, and he had said himself he did not usually do this. The fact that she, a lower noble in her uncle’s court, and her accident had caused this reaction on him disorientated her and the risk of them being caught was equally terrifying: if he was just a visiting noble or high ranking soldier it would have been a scandal met with marriage to protect her reputation and virtue. But Corrilian wasn’t just an agent of the Thalmor but a _Justiciar_. There would have been serious repercussions for him as well. Of course there was the possibility he could dismiss it as a trivial and inconsequential fling, like his relationships before her, which would have been an endless source of mirth for Daciana but she was no longer sure of that impression: the change of his personality, his tenderness, made her question that. 

When she had risen from her bathwater, red skin pruned and steaming, Larina had cautiously peered into the looking glass to see her reflection for the first time in weeks. The last time she had been so vain she had worried that she did not appear womanly, that fear was brought thundering back with a crash. The softness of her stomach and thighs had slimmed, her cheeks hollow and her shoulders and neck less swanlike and more angular. Even her wild brown curls appeared lacklustre: there was no hiding her frailty and how the court would manipulate it. She had originally planned to wear her short sleeved blue dress, but now in tears she was too self conscious to expose that much of herself. Larina had tried to remain calm in explaining to Voada why she had changed her mind, when she exited the room in the clothes she had worn before, only to burst into tears in the older woman’s arms. 

“There is beauty in your strength my dear,” Voada had soothed, “Dibella sees to that. Now I am sure we can do something to help”. Reluctantly Larina had agreed and trailed after her, dress in her arms. 

To cheer up Voada had organised the afternoon to be spent relaxing; learning to embroidery little flowers with a pot of tea and pastries. Of course Larina’s inability to even thread a needle before even sewing had caused her endless frustration, deciding to eat most of the pastries instead of continuing. They had learnt, too, about Esmie’s life before coming to the Keep and helping her mother nurse Larina back to health: she worked on a farm in Rorikstead with her husband and how they were praying to Mara to bless them with a child. The mention of it making Voada smile. 

“I guess you’ll be returning home soon” Larina had asked between mouthfuls of pastry, watching Esmie intricately decorate a handkerchief. 

“I suppose” she smiled, “it has been nice seeing my mother but I can’t wait to see my husband again” for a brief moment a look of worry clouded her face. In one of their private moments in the evening Mina had informed her that rumours were spreading that Voada’s father, and owner of the mine in Karthwasten, had apparently been found infected with the Affliction and sent into Kolskegger mine. The mer had informed them that there was no evidence to suggest a diagnosis, that it had been a power move by Thonar and his mercenaries to take control of the mines of the Reach that had slipped out of her uncle’s control: a worrying thought taking over that he might be trying for the throne again. There were rumours about discussions on haltin **g** the civil war, dragon attacks were increasing across the country. Though they had seen none in the Reach they had heard of the devastation at Helgen and Shor’s Stone, and her uncle was still adamant of the protection of their strong stone walls. 

As the hours crept closer to the evening meal, Mina dismissed herself to change and get ready, leaving Larina in the company of the two Breton women: with Voada roping in the power of her daughter to convince Larina into wearing her blue dress. 

“My mother is right Larina” Esmie had smiled, “they’ll be focused on your recovery more than anything”. With a resigned sigh Larina had accepted their counsel, making them wait, eyes closed at the table whilst she changed: even with a thicker underdress on it still hung loosely off her shoulders and waist. But Voada was resourceful, making Larina stand perfectly still, whilst she added a few loose stitches to the back of her dress. 

“In the morning I’ll unpick them and sew them in better if you plan on wearing the dress again” Larina had stood as still as possible, hoping not to get pricked by the needle. 

It was still one of her favourite dresses, its vibrancy had not changed, and the skirt made of cambric cotton flowed like it was made of water. Far too thin for a dress in the city but she loved it all the same. When Esmie had politely asked her if she could do her hair, Larina accepted, glad not to have an excuse just to pile it on top of her head, she had even retrieved her hair dagger to be added for good measure. Esmie had half braided it up in a series of small, intricate braids on the top of her head: she had mused that she was looking forward to doing such things when she had a daughter. At the last moment Larina had added her amulet of Kynareth, her pair of silver earrings and a bracelet. Catching her reflection in her mirror, Larina bulked and asked,

“Don’t you think it's a bit much?” chewing her bottom lip in worry. 

“You look beautiful my dear” Voada had squeezed her arm reassuringly. Despite having pestered Voada for hours to let her out of her room, Larina now faltered in her bedroom doorway, uncertain: perhaps it was too soon for her to leave. With her daughter’s help Voada ushered her from the room, stating she would take advantage of the time to clean her room, turn down her bed and light the fire. 

“You won’t be asking for my help anymore” she had sighed, her tone almost motherly and filling Larina with slight guilt before she headed towards the dining hall. 

She had calculated her time, not wanting to arrive too early or too late, knowing that her slight limp in her right leg would have slowed her down. Mina had reassured her with time and exercise she would return to walking normally, but deep inside she still wasn’t sure: though she was strong enough to walk on her own now without support, every intermittent step was tinged with a pulling sensation in her leg. But a life long limp was the least of her problems considering. But in the distance she could smell warm food and the murmuring of conversation and increased her step as best she could. 

The whole court was already present, she had misjudged her timings, and at her entrance all their eyes were on her. A cheer went up at the table, her aunt feigning a smile, and her uncle called out, 

“My girl I am so glad you are finally able to join us” his smile wide and welcoming. Thonar rose from his seat and met her halfway, offering her his arm to assist her to the table, as much as she wanted to prove to the court her strength, she agreed, allowing him to pull out her chair and help her get comfortable. The large glass of wine he had poured her was an added benefit, as soon as the smooth, fruity claret hit her lips she had smiled: despite her usual opinion on their behaviour, she had missed the wine and their company. She tried not to let her mind dwell too long on the company that was missing at the table, adding fish and vegetables to her plate: the voice in the back of her mind reminding her off her manners, she had missed eating proper meals but knew the condemnation she would receive off her aunt if she had begun to eat like her uncle. Smaller bites of food amongst sips of wine allowing her to savour the flavour and listen to the conversation no matter how dull. 

Between snippets of conversation she had tried to subtly steal glances at the Justiciar, hoping she wasn’t being obvious as she watched him lazily talking with her uncle and Estormo between sips of his wine. His flawless golden skin and high cheekbones, he stood out from any other man she had seen. She had mistakenly thought it was from a life of refinery, free from the hardships and toil of normal working life: but she was starting to gather snippets that challenged that, and she wondered who he really was. Those long scars, snide comments, and unanswered questions proved otherwise and she wanted to learn more. So deep was she lost in her thoughts tha **t** she hadn’t realised they had begun to rise and head for the great hall, Thonar’s grip on her arm half pulling her to her feet. Larina resisted the urge to snap at him and ignored the dull ache in her shoulder. 

“I hope you are not tired already” he smirked, his smile sickly sweet. 

Larina shook her head and shot back a fake smile, 

“Perhaps a little, but I’ve missed seeing you all and it's worth the tiredness” she had taken the initiative to slip her arm through his and added, 

“Do you mind if you help me walk though?” knowing he would revel in her fragility, and she was right. 

Thonar had assisted her to an empty seat opposite her aunt and poured her a glass of wine before settling in a seat beside her. Daciana’s gaze sharp but steady as she shot her niece a quick glance before draining her glass and refilling it: she wondered what her aunt’s reaction would be if could see Thonar’s hand now resting dangerously high on her thigh, she had had to restrain her flinch as he had too roughly knocked her still large bruise. 

“I’m so glad you are finally with us my dear” Daciana had drawled, “the conversation was beginning to wilt between discussions on silver mergers and intricacies of Talos eradication”. Poor Estormo looked uncomfortable in his position at the table, trapped between Larina and her aunt, until Mina rejoined them and took the empty seat between him and Daciana: Larina hadn’t noticed her disappear until it had been reinforced by her return. 

“I was going stir crazy inside my room” Larina replied between sips of her wine, wondering if it was stronger than usual, its headiness starting to make an appearance. 

“But I would like to walk again properly, _outside_ ” her dream of running through the forest had reminded her how rain on her skin made her feel, the cool wind brushing through her hair. 

“The sooner you start working for me the better then” Thonar interrupted, not attempting any subtly. 

“I thought she had finished your portrait” Daciana bit back, her eyes flickered slightly in the effort not to roll them. 

“She has agreed to work for me sketching concept designs for our new jewellery, the ones the Snow-Shod family are already interested in” Thonar’s words drew their attention, and she wondered if he had managed to skeever his way into designing the wedding jewellery for his fiance Vittoria. So this is what he had meant about being busy for the wedding, his power was growing as the season’s passed. But she wondered if she was the only one who had thought critically of his involvement, though the heir of the Snow-Shod clan was marrying the Emperor’s cousin, the family was still closely associated with the murderer Ulfric. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Larina smiled, hoping to ease the tension. “You know I’m not one to sit idle, especially if I can’t work in the laboratory anymore” she had tried to hide the annoyance in her tone. 

“What do you think, Corrilian?” Daciana had drawled, sipping at her wine, “is it not strange that a noble girl would work for a living? I doubt the fine ladies of Summerset would be expected” a sly grin upon her face. The wine glass from dinner had been replaced by his usual generous glass of brandy and Corrilian settled himself into the empty chair between Thonar and Kerah. 

“I wouldn’t know….I’m not a noble” his drawl weighted by his expressionless demeanour.

Daciana’s face paled slightly, and Larina wondered if her aunt’s opinion was weighted on wrong information, but her tone remained steady as she replied, 

“My apologies Corrilian, I was under the impression that all Justiciars were noblemen” a slight hint of superiority snuck out, if there was any possibility that she was superior to whoever she was talking to, Daciana revelled in it. 

“My father was a battlereeve in the Dominion Navy before retiring and used his experiences and connections in becoming a proficient merchant in Skywatch, I rose to _my_ position through training and proving myself in battle, not through money” as he spoke, Corrilian lent back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee and swirling the amber contents of his glass. 

“So you’re saying you happily fought against us during the Great War” Thonar smirked and Larina repressed the urge to roll her eyes: surely it was common sense with his background. 

“It’s a shame we weren’t more successful…” Corrilian finished the contents of his glass, bringing the table to silence again. Unable to think of a conversation to end the silence, Larina noticed the wine jug was empty and decided it was her responsibility, using it as an excuse to avoid the awkward silence: no one had stopped her when she awkwardly rose to her feet, her balance still off, jug still in hand and took it to the table of drinks to refill, happy for the moment of silence. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier if we just planted an amulet of Talos on him and have done with it” a voice murmured close to her ear. She hadn’t heard Corrilian leave the table nor had she heard him approach her, causing her to jump slightly: he began refilling his glass, a mischievous smirk on his face. 

“Would that not be abusing your power Justiciar?” Larina murmured back, feigning shock. 

“I saw his hand on your thigh before….was he hurting you?” Corrilian’s tone remained steady but the telltale twitch in his cheek returned. 

“No…” Larina lied, hoping that he would buy it, his slight flash of defensive or jealousy - she couldn’t tell which - exciting her. “I’d rather he kept his disgusting hands to himself, but the only reason I’m useful to you is because of his interest in me” Larina murmured back, hoping to mimic her aunt’s spite, his attention to her causing a strange boost in her confidence. 

He said nothing but she saw the slight sign of his jaw clench, and together they returned to the table in silence: she had barely stepped forward when he had removed the jug from her hand, too forcefully for her to cling onto in defiance, and carried it back for her. 

“You still have the manners of a gentleman” Daciana had drawled and Larina hoped she had managed to prevent herself rolling her eyes. 

They had returned to the conversation of business, and despite missing the court, Larina was too bored to keep up. It wasn’t until she was unable to contain her yawn that she thought it would be best for herself if she retired early: for once Larina did not have to appeal to her aunt for permission to leave early, it had in fact been Mina’s suggestion, the Khajiit claiming she had a long day in the laboratory to look forward too. 

Larina had bid them all goodnight, repressing the urge to scream when Thonar insisted on walking them to the door. 

“I’ll meet you outside the Keep my dear and walk you to the treasury house for support” he had smirked, that sickly tone returning to his voice, “it's the least I can do now that you’re working under me” he had added before offering them both a small bow and returning to the rest of the court. Larina was certain Mina had felt her shudder through their linked arms. 

“Either you have done something terribly wrong or they are paying you enough to buy yourself the High Throne” Mina murmured under her breath, and Larina waited until they were far enough out of earshot to save suppressing her laugh. 

“I don’t know what you mean” Larina shot back, “Thonar is the most eligible bachelor in Markarth”. Despite their joking she had found herself exhausted by the time Mina had walked her back to her door: a combination of exhortation and emotional fatigue, faking her happiness in the court was more tiring than usual. 

“It’s a dangerous game Larina” Mina sighed, unlinking their arms, “don’t forget that when you get caught up in whatever is motivating you” she added before bidding her a goodnight, this time lingering to make sure she had gotten into her room safely. 

Larina only had the energy to make it to her bed, pull of her boots, and sink onto her bed with a long sigh: too tired to remove her dress, Larina pulled the hairpin dagger from her head and left it on her nightstand, sleepily wondering about the state of her hair when she unravelled those braids in the morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slow short connecting chapter I'm afraid before I build onto the next stuff ;w;
> 
> \--chapter has been edited for minor spelling/grammar mistakes--


	36. Sapphires and Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be a little mad at me by the end of the chapter...
> 
> edit: since someone has pointed out something I have written towards the end of this chapter isn't lore friendly r.e. Skyrim and Oblivion - for the purpose of this story I've added this idea that mages are split into "natural mages" and "learned mages" e.g. races like the Mer and Manmer are more naturally attuned to magick since they practice it more often. Other races like the Nords, Khajiit and Argonians are less intunted with it magically but are able to master it pretty well through training and still become good mages. It's this reason why the Dominion have taken over the College where Aicantar and Corrilian have studied making it only accessible to the Mer (specifically the Altmer) to thin out the weaken magickal blood. Some dialogue that is already written that reveals Aicantar's and Corrilian's college time together will go into this in depth!

Larina had slept peacefully through the night, no dreams of machines, wolves or unknown forests to confuse her. She had in fact, risen from her bed rather sluggish, slowed by her limp as she answered the door to Voada with her breakfast tray, assuming her lethargy was from the late night of rejoining the court. She was glad to see that Voada had increased the contents of her tray, assuming that now she was back on the mend her appetite would increase and she wasn’t wrong. 

“I won’t be joining you this morning my dear” Voada had told her, handing over the tray carefully in case she could not manage. “Esmie is returning home and I’d like to say goodbye to her before she goes”. Larina nodded with a smile, she had grown used to Voada’s company throughout the day and knew she was going to miss it. But she couldn’t stand in the way of her bidding goodbye to her daughter, not when she didn’t know when she saw her next. 

For a moment she had considered taking her breakfast tray with her to her balcony, hoping to enjoy the view and fresh air again but the thought of her getting stuck, struggling to rise to her feet prevented her. Instead she took her tray to her bed, careful to place it down without spilling anything, and slowly, shakingly crossed her legs beneath her. At least in here she would be warmer, the cold getting to her more since her accident, and decided to read whilst she ate. Her hand hovered over his book that had been left on her nightstand, but she chose her copy of Azura and the Box instead, not wanting to ruin her memory of him reading to her tenderly in his own tongue. With the open book on her lap, Larina surveyed the contents of her breakfast warily, this time nothing amiss: sweet honey mead, fruit and bread with honey. Larina remembered what Corrilian had said, that the poison hadn’t been intended for her, the fact she had gotten his breakfast had been a mistake. Yet despite the seriousness of the situation - that someone in the Keep had tried to kill him - it appeared so far that he had told no-one else, no one had been questioned or imprisoned. Was he waiting for the poisoner to slip up and expose themselves? Larina thought back to that morning, it was Joric who had brought her her tray telling her how busy he was, it would’ve had to have been someone working in the kitchens or with easy access to them to escape being caught. She tried to push the thought out of her mind as she slowly worked her way through her breakfast.

Once finished, Larina washed her face in the basin of cool water and retrieved some clothes from wardrobe to dress, she was still uncertain what to wear. Though she was going to work she was working for Thonar, and needed to take advantage of every little thing that would gain his attention that she could: but she was still expected to work, her kirtle and tunic would be more practical and he had no qualms with it when she wore it for the portrait sessions: it was decided. Larina dressed in one of her newer, cleaner tunic with her brown kirtle, adding her jewellery from the night before and attached her silver belt at her waistline, pocket watch attached. From her nightstand Larina retrieved her hairpin and turned it over in her hands, Corrilian had given it to her for protection and she wondered if it was something he had been holding onto for a while. The strange material glinted in the dwemer light as she turned it over before she quickly pinned her curls atop her head. Cloak tucked over her arm and satchel swung over her shoulder, Larina left her breakfast tray at the entrance of her door and headed towards the inner sanctum. 

She had had to stop herself from dashing into the laboratory, the familiar hum of dwemer technology and the distant murmur of conversation: she had wondered whose turn it was to visit the camps and wanted to know what was happening. She hadn’t seen Calcelmo since the accident and wondered if he was okay. 

“It's nice to see you so early” Thonar had smirked, “I’m looking forward to spending my mornings like this” and offered her his arm for support. It wasn’t a far walk to the treasury house, but long enough if she had to touch him for the whole duration. With a reluctant smile Larina slipped her arm through his and allowed him to direct the way, his pace a little too fast for her limp but she didn’t want to tell him to slow his pace, knowing he would revel somewhat in her discomfort. 

“I guess it’ll be a nice change of scenery to come work for you” Larina had flattered, “plus sketching concept designs for jewellery is a new challenge” she had added, her mind already whirring into overdrive. Perhaps with Thonar’s connections she could make good on the Justiciar’s promise of freedom: she could work in another city designing her jewellery and be able to support herself without marrying a skeever or depending upon others for support. 

Once they had reached the treasury house, Thonar had held the door open to her and introduced her to his staff. At one time she would have been surprised to find all of his staff were predominantly Nords, with most noble families in the Reach opting for Breton servants: but she had heard of how his two closest servants had betrayed him and killed his wife and wasn’t surprised at his lack of Bretony servants.

“This is Riada my receptionist” Thonar had introduced first with a slight smirk, the only other Breton in the room besides her. The woman was dressed finely but perhaps a little revealing, her skirt short enough to expose her calves, once Larina caught her gaze she blushed slightly for staring too long but she simply shot her a small smile. 

Thonar gestured to the bored looking Imperial standing beside her, who had only lazily brought his gaze to them once he was introduced. 

“Reburrus is the most important merchant working for me” Thonar had flattered, “traveling on my behalf so I don’t have to” Larina flashed the man a small smile only to be met with a bored look in return: she hoped she didn’t have to work with him much. 

“And my two servants Roggi and Alfa, if there’s anything you need they’ll fetch for you” the two older nords flashed her an uncertain smile. 

“I will give you a short tour and then we can begin business” Thonar drawled, and began directing her with a pull of his arm leaving the rest of the room to continue their work. To the left of the reception Thonar guided her into a large and open room: to the left a large, lit hearth burned away and to the right the wall was covered in several bookshelves covered in books and cases of gems: Thonar hadn’t exactly given her the impression he was man who enjoyed reading for pleasure. In the centre of the room sat a large, dark wood desk covered in papers and a large chair. 

“My office” he purred, “I’ll always be in here and sometimes you will find Reburrus if you need him” before guiding her out of the room. Out in the hallway a small doorway opened up with a stone staircase, without stopping Thonar explained, 

“Down there are the kitchens and servants quarters, the other staircase on the right side of the building leads to my own personal dwelling, mine and Liesel’s room and our living area”. 

“Is Liesel here today?” Larina had smiled, hoping she could say a quick hello. 

“She’ll be in the Keep with your cousin I suspect” he had shot her a bored look before leading her down the right hallway to the reception and into another room. 

A lot smaller than the last, the room held very little furniture save a small wooden desk and a few display cases: Larina assumed that was the desk she would be sat at, just enough space to hold her sketching journal and maybe a few items: but the large window in the back of the wall made up for it, sunlight already streaming onto the desk. 

Larina unlinked her arm from Thonar’s and steadily crossed over it, looking out of the window to the view outside the walls. 

“I trust the room is acceptable” Thonar had smirked and Larina did not need to feign being impressed. 

“Yes it's lovely, does the window open?” she asked, her hand pressed against the cold pane, Thonar shook his head in response. 

“Is there anything else you need to begin working?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Larina paused for a moment to think what she was lacking: she had brought a clean sketching journal that she had asked Voada to fetch for her, and the charcoal and paints leftover from the portrait. 

“I guess I’ll find out when I start working,” Larina mused, “where do I begin?”. 

“There are some documents on your desk of a letter from my old friend Maven detailing a necklace she would like making as a gift, perhaps start sketching that first and we’ll see where to go from there” it was a sensible request and Larina settled in the wooden chair before the desk, eager to begin work. 

“One last thing,” Thonar paused in the doorless entryway, “if you need anything that the servants can’t find, ask Riada or Reburrus, I don’t like to be disturbed when I am working” his tone shifted slightly to irritation and Larina nodded quickly. She would have to be careful if she was planning to eavesdrop without being caught. 

Now on her own, Larina began scanning through the letter, glad at least the handwriting was neat and legible, and the design they wanted was simple enough: a silver carcanet befit with sapphires, small and practical but beautiful. Thonar had said she was an old friend and a noblewoman of Riften, and had wondered if it was through her he planned on advancing himself. She had a few basic ideas in mind and began sketching them, detailing the designs from all angles. But each new sketch she created felt like it was lacking something. She knew better than to pester Thonar but he had said that his staff were at her disposal and so she rose from her chair and steadily left the room, finding Reburrus talking to Raida at her desk. 

“Would you be able to tell me a bit more about Maven please” Larina smiled awkwardly and offered her sketches as an explanation, “I thought it would be a good idea to make it as personal as possible, and I didn’t know if she was the type to like elaborate designs or something simple?”. 

Reburrus looked her up and down with disdain causing her to shift on the spot awkwardly: if she was a pettier person she would have reminded him of her connection to her uncle but instead she remained silent. 

“Reburrus has met with her a few times, I’m sure he can tell you” Raida’s kind words forcing him into an answer. 

With a roll of his eyes, Reburrus explained, 

“She would prefer something practical over pretty, she’s a formidable woman but she still likes to remind people of her power” his answer laced with boredom. 

“Thanks” Larina smiled, “I think I have something in mind” and excused herself and limped back to her desk: she could hear them murmuring about her movements behind her, but she said nothing pretending she hadn’t heard. Larina continued working into the afternoon, slowly beginning to add colour to her details until Thonar interrupted her informing her it was time to leave. At the entrance hall the female nord met her with her shawl as they both prepared to leave and Larina bid farewell to Riada, glad at least that Reburrus was not there again. 

With her arm tucked a little too tightly in his, Thonar escorted her back up the steep stairs to the upper level of the walls and back towards the entrance of the Keep. 

“What do you think of your first day in a real job” he asked with a smirk, and through gritted teeth Larina replied, 

“I enjoyed it more than I expected” her lie concealing her thinly veiled insult, “I think by the end of tomorrow I’ll have that first sketch done”. 

“Good” Thonar paused outside the golden doors to the Keep. “The sooner we get these sketches out the better, I’d rather not wait as long as I had to for the portrait” before gesturing for a guard to open the door for her. Larina bid him farewell with a short bob, waiting until she was inside the Keep before rolling her eyes: she knew she couldn’t let his little comments get to her, not if she wanted to keep her composure and his interest in her. She began limping to her room, knowing that even if she had the time to dawdle she couldn’t enter the laboratory like she wanted: she knew by now she wouldn’t see Aicantar or Calcelmo at the dining table, and instead had to wait for Mina’s appearance to find out how they were doing. 

When she finally got back to her room, still a little tired from all the walking, she found a beautiful ornate, red glass bottle sitting on her stone table where it hadn’t been earlier. Larina reached for the folded note and read

“ _I thought you might need something stronger_

_than tea after spending all day_

_with that skeever”_

Larina assumed it was a gift from Corrilian, the swirling handwriting too refined for anyone else in the Keep, and took off the glass stopper to smell its contents: she had expected a spiced smell like the brandy he drank, instead its heady sweetness surprised her. Larina fetched the wooden cup from her nightstand and drank the water it contained before pouring a small amount from the bottle. The first taste slightly burned her lips, but it quickly spread warmth through her body and she realised its strength: but the sweetness of it was deceiving, tasting like woodland berries, and she had to stop herself pouring some more. Stoppering the bottle again, Larina moved it to the cupboard in her nightstand before crossing to her wardrobe to find something to wear for the evening: she picked the wheat coloured long-sleeved linen dress she had brought during her visit to the market with Kerah, realising she had not yet worn it. She quickly freshened up at her basin, before stepping out of her kirtle and tunic and pulled the dress on over her undergarments. Larina pulled the hairpin out of her bun leaving it in her jewelry box, and ran her fingers through her curls to calm some of the frizz before leaving her room and heading to the dinning hall. 

When she arrived at the table she found her aunt already in high spirits, a half drunk bottle of wine before her and mercilessly teasing Estormo beside her, her uncle’s face clouded with annoyance. Even by her aunt’s standards it was surprising to see her so inebriated so early in the evening, her aunt’s tolerance for alcohol was high, and though there were a few times she came close to the edge, this was the first time Larina could remember her being so drunk. 

Sinking into her seat beside Thonar, she flashed him a quizzical look, causing him to lean in and whisper in her ear, 

“Apparently she had an argument with your uncle this afternoon, whatever it was about, it was clearly remarkable” Thonar smirked and she didn’t know who to pity more. Once the rest of the court arrived, they began tucking into the mounds of food before them, and at Kerah’s insistence Daciana slowly made her way through her food, the bottles of wine constantly, subtly, moving out of her reach. Another meal where Mina had not joined them, the conversation not entertaining enough to stop her mind from drifting, until the words her uncle spoke pulled her out of her thoughts. 

“It’s a shame you have to leave us again Corrilian but can’t you wait a few days? The end of Rain’s Hand usually sees a lot of showers here before the season warms up” her uncle spoke between mouthfuls of food. He was leaving again? She wondered what for. 

“Unfortunately some business in Morthal requires my attention, but I’ll only be gone for a few days” he replied, sipping his wine. Larina wondered why he couldn’t just sent his soldiers to deliver the information, the roads of skyrim weren’t exactly safe for the Thalmor, surely he realised that when he only narrowly escaped his attack last time. 

Larina was caught up in this thought as they rose from the dining table and headed to the great hall, happy at least to see Mina already sat at the table waiting for them. As fast as she could limp, Larina passed them and joined her at the table, hoping to get a little bit of information out of her before they joined the table and steered the conversation to something more dull.

“Any news of the camps?” she asked, sinking into a seat beside her friend. 

Casting a look over her shoulder and seeing the rest of the court approach, she quickly murmured, 

“When Aicantar returned he said that more villagers were sent into the mine supposedly with the disease, despite being the mage tasked with monitoring the symptoms for today he wasn’t even allowed to see them to see how badly they were infected. The guards just told him what they saw and made him add them to the list. Aicantar and Calcelmo are both getting suspicious about the mine but so far wont say what”.

“Whatever are you two muttering about” Daciana drawled as she slid into a chair a few spaces from Mina, another wine bottle in hand. Kerah had joined her at her right side, and Larina slid over a seat to sit closer to the Justiciar, not wanting Thonar to sit on her right side and brush against her bruise again. Instead he took the empty seat on her left side between her and Mina, leaving poor Estormo at her side again. 

“I was just telling Mina about my work today” Larina smiled with a lie, she wondered if Mina had informed Corrilian of the mage’s suspicions. 

“I was designing my first piece, a silver carcinet with sapphires for -” Daciana interrupted her words with a bored roll of her eyes. 

“I’m getting rather bored of hearing about people’s business when we’re supposed to be enjoying the evening. Really this court is _too_ small, perhaps we should be more grateful of newcomers” she drawled with a sigh and finished her wine glass. 

  
  


“I’m sure our new agent can fill us in on any gossip he might have learned” Daciana pried, when she saw the alarmed look in his eyes she added, 

“ _No_ ? Perhaps you can indulge us a bit more about your family, what does your poor mother think of you being so far from home” Daciana drawled, and Larina flashed the poor mer a sympathetic look, _rather you than me_ she had thought. 

“She’s proud I joined the Thalmor so that I can serve my people and the Dominion” he responded, a proud look on his face. Larina wondered if she had imagined the small sound of a scoff coming from beside her. 

“And your father?” she pried even more. 

“He died during the Great War” a brief look of sadness swept across his face.

“If you're taking commissions for the upcoming wedding of the Vici and Snow-Shod families, does that mean you’ll be visiting Solitude for the wedding?” Larina suddenly asked Thonar, hoping to draw her aunt’s attention away. 

“I suppose so” Thonar replied, flashing her a look of confusion, enjoying the entertainment of watching the young agent squirm. 

“You’ll probably want to attend personally rather than sending Reburrus, as the wife of the Jarl wouldn’t you be able to go to Daciana? attending a wedding in the capital would be exciting” Larina replied, overemphasizing her excitement. It clearly worked however, as her aunt turned to face her and bit back, 

“What makes you think _you’ll_ be going if we did? What interests you that much about the city anyhow?” Daciana mocked. 

She had invited this, in a foolish moment of hoping to save Estormo from verbal torture, though he should have been able to do it himself. Through gritted teeth Larina replied, 

“Well I am working for Thonar, it’ll be my designs people wear, I thought I’d be able to go” it wasn’t a lie and had been something that had occurred to her during her afternoon sketching. 

“I suppose I’d be able to speak to the Legion too and find out where Sebastian is” if anyone were to know where her brother had been stationed, the General’s in the capital were the best people to ask.

The mocking laughter of her aunt pulled her out of her thoughts with a sudden jolt. 

After a sip of her wine she drawled,

“What makes you think he’s alive in the first place” her words even shocked Kerah whose mouth hung slightly open, her attempts to calm Daciana down dismissed with a wave of her hand. 

“As his last of kin we would have been notified surely” Larina’s voice was cold. It was a thought that had occurred to her before, the possibility of _that_ letter getting lost if he had never been notified of his parents death, or where she was. But to her aunt speak it aloud, with such venom, caused a wave of anger to wash over her. 

“And if he was alive would have at least written to you over the last few years if he was interested in your wellbeing” she had mocked and Larina felt her hands clench under the table: the ghosts of fingertips brushed her hands and she felt a dangerous heat pool in her skin, was he trying to calm her down?: but Larina slowly realised the warmth was eminanting from her and she couldn’t contain her anger anymore.

“Until proven otherwise I will continue to believe my brother, and _your_ nephew, is very much alive” she bit back, her tone rising, the dawning awareness of the uncomfortable atmosphere of the table reaching her. 

“Why are you desperate for him to come and _save you”_ her emphasis on those last words is a mixture of mocking and annoyance. “You’re lucky that we even let you into this court at all, it was your uncle’s good will, not mine. I saw no point in saving my sister’s _mistake”_ At her words Kerah let out a gasp and removed the wine glass from her grasp. 

“Daciana I really do not think now is the time” she had murmured before Larina interrupted, her tone cold and dripping with animosity. 

“It’s not the first time you have called me a mistake aunt, perhaps it is the right time to tell me what you mean” she was surprised at how steady her voice sounded when her body shook where she sat. 

A malicious look flashed across Daciana’s face, 

“You want me to tell you how my sister was a _whore_ is that it?” she laughed, her mockery echoing round the room. “I told Igmund there was no room for _bastard’s_ in our court but he was kinder than I could have been,” she spat. 

“ **_How dare you speak about my mother like that_ **” unable to control herself any longer, Larina quickly rose to her feet, her movements too fast causing her scar to jolt with pain and tipping her chair over. Hearing her words, Igmund rose from his chair and quickly rushed over to them, grabbing his wife by the arm and attempting to pull her away. 

“You are done embarrassing me this evening” he seethed, if it wasn’t for the anger clouding her view she would have been surprised at seeing her uncle so openly angry. 

Wrenching her arm from her husband’s grip, Daciana shouted back,

“Oh I _dare_ you stupid girl” her eyes wide in anger, “how was I not supposed to be embarrassed when my married sister, to one of Jehanna’s most respected noblemen, cheated on her husband with his own mage” her aunt’s angered words made her feel sick, but she couldn’t back down when she was being humiliated in front of the entire court. 

“When she found out she was pregnant with _you_ , they eloped in the middle of the night to that backwards shithole of a town, with her lordship’s only heir in tow. Perhaps Sebastian finally realised you were the product of his mother’s shame and decided he wanted nothing to do with you”.

“ **_Enough_ ** _”_ Larina’s own angered words racked her body as it exploded out of her: she hadn’t realised her arm had flung backwards in emphasis until the dull ache in her shoulder pained her. She thought it was her movements that had caused the fire in her arm to suddenly increase, her hand feeling like it was in flames: she had assumed the wide eyed reaction of the court was due to her shouting, until the Justiciar quickly rose to his feet, pulling her sideways by her arm, and Larina realised she could smell burning. She had set her chair on fire. 

“ _By the gods_ ” she had heard someone murmur, as the flames began to increase and shift into a strangely humanoid figure. For a brilliant moment the figure burned brightly and Larina stood transfixed until she felt someone quickly pulling her backwards. 

“ _Move out of the way_ ” Corrilian called out to them and for once Thonar did not hesitate to ignore him, quickly rising out of his seat and darting to the otherside of the table with Mina and Estormo. 

Like the sound of thunder, the figure rose from the ground and fell backwards before exploding, igniting the remaining wooden chairs on the opposite side of the table. 

_She had caused it_. 

“She could have killed me” Daciana shrieked, wrestling out of her husband’s gaze and marching over towards them: before she or the Justiciar had a chance to stop her, Daciana struck her hard across the face. 

Larina’s hands began to ball into fists again, until she felt the Justiciar’s gentle hand on her shoulder and her body began to relax. 

“I...I didn’t do it intentionally, I don’t know how it happened” Larina stammered out, knowing herself it was the truth, even if the rest of the court didn’t believe her. 

“Mina can you try and calm down Daciana please and then escort Miss Devereux to the laboratory”. 

Mina had barely made a few steps towards her before Daciana spat out, 

“Keep your paws to yourself, and she’s not leaving this room until -” 

“I suggest it would be best if we allow her some space to calm down, I’d assume you didn’t want anymore scorched furniture” Corrilian drawled, forcing Daciana to back down, and Larina allowed Mina to escort her out of the room. 

Mina only dragged her as far as the courts eyes were upon her before pausing in the hallway to look her over, 

“Are you alright, you’ve gone pale” Mina’s eyes flashed with concern as she looked her over. 

“I...I just feel tired” Larina tired, still lost in the confusion, the palm of her hand burning in pain, her cheek still stinging. Helping support Larina’s bodyweight with her own, Mina walked her to the laboratory, where Aicantar was already busy at work. Seeing the two women enter, realising Mina was supporting Larina, he dropped his notes and rushed over to them. 

“You’re not supposed to be here” Aicantar called out, until he noticed the look of concern on both their faces. Helped into an empty seat, as Mina fetched her own cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, Larina murmured, 

“I accidentally set fire to my chair in the great hall” her face still wracked with confusion. Setting a pot of water on the alchemy table to heat up, Mina called out

“She summoned a flame atronach, only for a short while but completely by mistake”. 

Aicantar’s eyes widened at her words, turning his attention to Larina and asked 

“Is that true? I thought you hadn’t practiced magicka since you were a child?”.

Larina nodded her head slightly, her whole body overcome with tiredness

“Even then it was only one spell, I hadn’t practiced in a year. I was arguing with my aunt, she pushed me too far but I shouldn’t have lost control of my anger like that” she didn’t want to repeat her aunt’s revelation, and she hesitated, wondering if she should tell them about the incident with the dwemer spider, of how she had cast a spell then. 

“What does it mean?” Larina murmured to him, wondering if he had an answer. 

Aicanar waited for Mina to bring the pot of hot water over with some cups and poured them all a drink, before beginning to explain. 

“It seems you’ve repressed your magicka for such a long time, an outburst at some point was expected, especially if your emotions were high. Is there not a moment similar to this in your childhood you can recall?” Aicantar asked, regarding her with interest.

Larina shook her head, 

“No nothing like this…. My father taught me a spell when I was young to help me catch small animals to play with, I was never quick enough to catch them on my own. He had wanted us to follow in his footsteps and attend the College here, but when my brother made it clear he wasn’t interested, my father stopped pushing the subject” Larina wondered if her father had survived, she might have attended the College and made him proud. 

“Your father was the local mage if I remember correctly, but did you mother exhibit any magickal powers?” Aicantar blew across the top of his cup attempting to cool its contents. 

“If she did she never showed it to us,” Larina shrugged. “My father had met her when he was a healer for hire in Jehanna, and he continued that work in our little town, why do you ask?”. 

At her words, Aicantar shot Mina a quick glance before beginning to explain. 

“Well you see, there’s two different types of students who study magicka, those that have a natural affinity for it, and those who have to work hard to master it. Those of the Mer, and the Manmeri because of their shared lineage with us, naturally have this affinity: they begin exhibiting this power at an early age, usually by accidentally casting a spell that normally predetermines what school of magicka they’ll study later if they decide to become mages. These are normally spells they aren’t taught, in the Aldmeri culture almost everyone is well practiced in magicka, even if they don’t plan on becoming a mage, our natural affinity for magick isn’t looked down upon. Usually mastering simple spells that make their everyday lives easier, for example, children are taught things like healing spells so they don’t get hurt, or how to cast candlelight or clairvoyant spells so they don’t get lost in the dark on their way home. With families that have a long lineage of studying magicka as scholars or mages, they usually begin this training pretty early in childhood, like with my family who specialized in conjuration. What surprises me is the fact you were able to cast such a powerful conjuration spell, even for a short time, without practice and with your father’s magickal capabilities leaning towards restoration and illusion”.

Larina nursed the warm cup in the palm of her hands, remembering the dull ache of her right hand turned it upwards to show them: the skin of her palm still a vibrant red. Aicantar placed his hand on hers and began casting a healing spell, cooling the flesh and dulling the pain she felt. 

“I wish I could remember more about my father’s powers, it might explain some of this more. So would destruction magick be the school I’d be expected to train in?” she asked, sipping her tea. 

Aicantar nodded his head, removing his hand from hers and explained, 

“Most likely yes, but although you have shown your capabilities of magicka, you still need proper training, gods knows what the extent of your power is, but you can’t exactly keep walking around the Keep like a powder keg ready to explode” Larina caught the hint of concern in his voice and so she finally revealed. 

“I cast a spell when the dwemer machine attacked me, I’m sure that was a fire spell as well” seeing his eyes widen in surprise, she quickly added, “but that was in self defense, perhaps my powers only manifest when threatened but tell me about the other types of students too” her curiosity was piqued and she wanted something to distract her earlier. 

“Well there are those who are interested in magick and want to become mages despite lacking a stronger natural affinity like we do, they _can_ learn the magick through training and education, but it takes them longer to learn like we do, but it certainly refines their focus more. A good mage will be no weaker than their natural counterparts, since they have dedicated so much of their energy into mastering their skill but despite this the school that I trained at now refuses them entrance because of their lack of a natural affinity since it came under Dominion rule” Larina remembered his argument with Estormo days before and understood his anger, it appeared that Aicantar was a bit more accepting in his views of training compared to his kin. 

“It's a good thing I don’t plan on training in Summerset” Larina joked and finished her tea. Aicantar’s gaze now focusing behind her causing her to shift in her seat. 

Now joining them in the laboratory, she noticed that the Justiciar was accompanied by her uncle and his housecarl, his presence surprising her. Larina shifted off her stool and descended the staircase towards them, Aicantar and Mina slowly following in tow. Her uncle was hesitant in stepping towards her, Faleen keeping close to his side, causing Larina to scrunch up her face in distress. Did he fear her? She hadn’t intended on hurting anyone even in her anger, but she could understand his worry, even if it upset her in the process. 

“After receiving counsel from the Justiciar, I have been advised that it is in the best interest of everyone that you receive some training in how to control your power, rather than forcing you to repress it for any longer”. Larina tried to catch Corrilian’s gaze to thank him somehow for coming to her rescue again, only he looked past her. 

“Uncle I really am sorry, I really didn’t intend to hurt anyone” she stammered through her apology, feeling the tears beginning to form in her eyes. 

With a resigned sigh, Igmund bridged the gap between them but still keeping an arm’s length away.

“I know Larina, but you can understand why everyone was so worried, you could have hurt someone” she lowered her gaze, knowing her uncle was right. 

“Your aunt wanted to see you punished, removed from the Keep altogether, since you’re a working woman now you could afford to pay for your own room at the Inn” he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he repeated her words. “Of course I didn’t agree, but you still need to be punished for the outburst in some way. Therefore, you are no longer allowed to leave the Keep apart from when you’re working with Thonar and you _will_ be escorted to and from the Keep and you cannot step foot in the laboratory again”.

At his words, Larina’s shoulders sunk in despair, after tonight she wouldn’t be able to step foot in here again, unable to help Calcelmo or Aicantar with their work. She had hoped her drawings of the dwemer artefacts in Calcelmo’s next book would be enough to solidify her position as a student too, hoping it would be a place of escape. Now she could only count on the Justiciar or her work with Thonar. 

“However, it has been decided that it is not safe enough for you to practice in the Keep, so in the evenings that Aicantar is not in the camps, it would be appreciated if he and Mina-diir train you for an hour or two to practice before the evening meal. Otherwise you are not permitted to practice magick at anytime” Aicantar nodded and agreed to his assistance, agreeing with the Jarl that forcing her to repress her powers any further was dangerous and asked where they would practice instead. 

“The now abandoned Warrens has been suggested as the ideal place, and the Justicar has agreed to escort Larina there and back, save putting aside any of my men. I assume with the three of you all being well trained mages, you’ll be able to help her?”. Despite her punishment, she was finally going to learn magick, even if there were restraints on her doing so. 

With everyone in agreement, the Jarl spoke again, only to request Larina to step aside with him and talk in private: Larina cast an uncertain, sideways glance to Aicantar before nodding and joining him, and despite the dim dwemer light they were stood under, she realised a look of sadness now rested on his face. 

“I’m so sorry you had to find out about your parentage this way Larina. We had intended to inform you when you were old enough, but it was never going to be like this” his voice heavy.

Drawing Mina’s shawl tighter around her, Larina replied, 

“I’m almost nineteen uncle, how much longer were you going to wait?” with a sigh she realised he was only looking out for her, and her aunt was right, he could have easily said no. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, especially if it came at a cost to you. But perhaps Daciana was right about my brother.” the tears that had welled earlier finally spilled out onto her cheeks. Maybe Sebastian had realised that his own family had been ruined by her and her father. If he had stayed the only son of a nobleman would he have still wanted to spread his wings and travel everywhere? He certainly would have had better finances to do so. 

For a brief moment Igmund gently reached out and squeezed his niece's good shoulder in reassurance and replied, 

“I highly doubt that for a moment, you know if we could find out where Sebastian was we’d help you find him in a heartbeat and I’m sure in the back of her mind my wife is embarrassed at how this evening has played out. Her foolish actions didn’t just upset you”. Larina thought back to Daciana’s behavior earlier, how it already predetermined their argument: Thonar had told her they had argued and she wondered what it could have been to cause her to react like that, but didn’t want to pry any further when her uncle was so far on her side. 

Together they returned to the group, where Aicantar informed her they would begin her training tomorrow in the evening when he had returned from the camps. 

“Hopefully you won't be too tired” Larina had replied, but was happy at least that he was going to train her: with a long night ahead of him waiting for Calcelmo to return and getting his own rest, she bid him and Mina goodnight and left with the others. It appeared that it was another late night for the Khajiit helping him, and Larina hoped she would get some rest too, thanking her for kindness and support. She bid goodnight to her uncle and Faleen too, hoping that when he returned to his room Daciana was already asleep and not geared for another argument. 

They continued on to their rooms in silence, whilst she tried to figure something clever to say: again he had saved her skin, this time from a less dangerous threat than an out of control dwemer contraption, perhaps he had thought that training her magicka was another adding skill to her role as his spy. Or perhaps, like Aicantar, he was worried that she might lose control again. They paused for a moment outside her bedroom door, and he wished her goodnight bowing his head slightly before beginning to head to his own room. 

“Would you like to come in for a moment?” Larina called after him, after checking to make sure the hall was clear. Corrilian turned on the spot and appeared to think for a moment before heading over to her saying nothing, and followed her into her room. 

Larina was just about to thank him properly for his help before she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. She looked up to meet his gaze, his brow furrowed in concern as he gently swept an errant curl off her forehead and asked, 

“Are you alright, after the incident I mean?” his voice was surprisingly gentle. 

With an uncertain shrug she replied, 

“My palm burned for a while afterwards but Aicantar cast a healing spell that appears to have helped” at her words he turned her hand over in his and tenderly stroked it with his thumb. 

She couldn’t help herself as her words tumbled out, 

“I’m not quite sure what to make of your tenderness, it's somewhat _unnerving_ ” she heard his soft chuckle before feeling his lips against her cheek. 

“I thought you’d prefer it to being mean” he replied, pulling her still held hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently. 

“I guess so” Larina mused with a small smile, “if your enemies could see you now they wouldn’t find you very intimidating”. 

“I’m not aiming to be intimidating right now” he murmured before his lips pressed against hers again, his lips pulling her mouth slightly open so his tongue could meet hers. 

She felt his hands on her waist again, gently directing her backwards towards her bed, when its wooden frame bumped the back of her leg she slowly sunk onto it, awkwardly kicking off her boots and letting the shawl fall to the floor. She could hear her own breath, shaky in her ears, as she watched him remove his own boots and the high collared jacket he had worn. Gracefully Corrilian climbed onto the bed, positioned himself on top of her, careful where he placed his weight, and pressed his hands into the mattress either side of her bed. A few stray hands hung past his face and his amulet of phynaster had tumbled loose of his tunic, and she realised how small she was underneath his broad shoulders.When his gaze met hers she realised his pupils had darkened. Reaching up with a shaky hand, Larina placed her hand on his shoulder and brought him down to kiss her again. She felt his weight press against her more as he met her kiss now with more intensity, breaking it off to kiss a trail down her neck, nipping gently at the skin, her neck naturally arching at the action. 

Her hands moved independently of her mind as they moved to untuck his tunic from his belt, her hands reaching under the fabric to caress the warm, firm skin of his stomach. Corrilian flinched slightly at the action, his short moan in her ear causing the pooling heat between her legs to stir. His lips met hers again, sucking at her swollen bottom lip as his hand brought the skirt of her dress up to her waist and began to trail his hand up her thigh. Unaware that he had too roughly brushed the bruise on her thigh, Larina flinched, her face clouding slightly with pain. 

“ _Slek_ I’m sorry, I should have remembered to be more careful,” Corrilian quickly sat up and ran his hand through his hair “this is why I -” seeing her expression change to sadness he offered his hand and pulled her up to meet him, cradling her against his chest. 

“I wanted to wait until _after_ you had fully healed” he murmured into her ear and pressed his lips against her head. Larina realised what he meant and sighed, maybe she wasn’t as ready as she thought. 

“I’m sorry -” she began before he stopped her with a quick kiss and replied, 

“You have nothing to apologise for, I wouldn't want to hurt you any further” unable to think of a response she returned his kiss with her own against his shoulder, before absentmindedly continuing the trail across his exposed collarbone. 

She could feel the groan beginning in his throat before he pulled her gently away and rose from the bed. “I think it's best I leave now and let you rest, you’ll need your strength tomorrow for training, it’ll exhaust you and you don’t want to lose control again. Although if you slightly singe that insolent Mer I’m sure I can look the other way” he smirked slightly as he pulled his jacket on but left it unbuttoned. Corrilian grabbed his boots in one hand rather than putting them back on, before quickly kissing her gently and wishing her a good night of rest before leaving her room. With a groan, Larina felt back against her bed and pulled her pillow over her face, her skin still warm and mind racing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this next plot device doesn't seem too rushed, please let me know though!  
> I was supposed to upload this chapter tonight ;w; if i can sit my butt down and finish writing and editing there may be another tonight ~


	37. Sunrise and storm clouds

That morning Larina awoke, her back aching from having spent the night sleeping on her side, facing the door: she must have fallen asleep in that position as she watched him leave. Reaching for her pocket watch from her bedside table, larina checked the time, already knowing it was still early, Voada wouldn’t be delivering her breakfast tray for another hour. But there was enough time for her to watch the sun rise over the Reach if she moved fast enough. 

Larina rose out of her bed, leaving her shawl behind and limped slowly towards her balcony door and stepped out. It was cool enough that she would have needed it, but the damp morning air on her skin filled her with a strange sense of happiness. In the distance she could hear birdsong, and amongst the slowly approaching grey clouds, she watched the sun rise for the first time in weeks. The clouds forewarning another day of rain, most of the early months here were damp, grey and cool. Even in the middle of the year, where she had heard the other cities saw more warmth and sunlight, it did not stretch as far as the Reach. She had heard from the Silver-Smith’s it was far worse in Falkreath, like a giant shadow loomed over the city, so she had to be lucky she was here instead.

Larina hoped that if Thonar was planning on attending the Vici wedding in Solitude in a few weeks time that he would allow her to attend as well, she might be able to put up with his wandering hands and snide comments if it met she got to see the capital and proper warmth. Watching as the grey drizzle approached, Larina remembered what her uncle had said the night before, the thought being lost amongst her argument with her aunt. Corrilian would be leaving them again, and although it was only for a few days she felt her stomach twist in worry, he was probably safer from bandits now than ever before, but if there were still unaccounted for Afflicted wandering the Reach, they were far more dangerous. 

_ He’s hardly some poor farmhand incapable of looking after himself _ , her mind tried to reassure her as she let out a breath and watched in mist before her. 

“That was a loud sigh” Voada’s voice behind her making her jump, and she felt the older Breton wrap her shawl around her shoulders. “You really shouldn’t be out here in the cold, especially without being dressed properly, you’re still too fragile, you could make yourself sick” she chastised.

Larina knew her words were right but rolled her eyes nonetheless, there was that word again,  _ fragile _ . They had treated her like it before the accident, and it had only worsened now. Voada mothered her, Thonar revelled in it and Corrilian…. She wondered how the night before would have gone if her pain hadn’t put him off: she remembered the flash of concern in his eyes when he had realised he had hurt her, he had said with his unconventional tastes that he could hurt her, yet when he saw her pain he pulled away. His ever changing personality confused her. 

“I thought I’d watch the sunrise over the Reach like I used to, only I can’t sit on the floor like usual” Larina sighed, her breath fogging before her. 

“Maybe not here  _ no _ but I think of somewhere equally suitable” Voada’s words causing her to turn and follow after her. Slipping on her shoes, Larina followed the older Breton out of her room and down the corridor to the parlour room, stopping to help her with the door. 

Larina suddenly realised what she had meant, the balcony attached to the room was much larger and held an actual table to sit at rather than a cushion, she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. 

Voada placed the tray down on the table with a smile and gestured to the view, 

“Now you can enjoy the sunset and eat your breakfast, Aicantar brought me these this morning as well” she gestured to the two spell tomes stacked on the tray beside her breakfast. 

“Did you hear what happened?” Larina murmured back wondering what she was going to say. 

“I’ve heard only rumours and gossip, I’d much rather hear it from  _ you _ ” her face clouded with worry. 

Larina quickly scanned her eyes over the tray, happy to see a pot of tea had been included with the meal and asked Voada to fetch another cup from the room before she began to explain. 

When she returned, Larina filled both of their cups with hot tea and began to explain the night before. 

“It all started because my aunt was drunker than usual, I don’t really know what had caused her to behave like that, it was out of character even for her”

“Yes I had heard rumours about an argument between them, 

a servant had overheard somethings, nothing enough to inform us, barely heard anything over smashing glass”

“....I stupidly thought I could stop her bullying that poor Thalmor agent and ending up putting myself in the firing line….”

“Well he  _ is _ an agent working for the Thalmor dear, he’s a grown mer,

he can take care of himself”

“....Well then she called my mother a  _ whore _ and that’s when I lost it completely….”

“It was  _ you _ that set fire to the furniture? I thought some drunken fool

had knocked over a candle, by the gods”

“....That's when my uncle told me my punishment, of how he managed to talk Daciana down, but now I have to have lessons with Aicantar and Mina-diir, overseen by the Justiciar, to learn to control myself. The spell tomes are useful, but can I really learn anything by not being able to practice it right away?”. 

“Does the Justiciar really have to be there?” Voada asked, her voice wary. 

In the break of her story, Larina had slowly began to eat her bread and honey, 

“My uncle thinks it's better than sending some guards to accompany us when he needs them all doing their duties, plus it helps that the Justiciar is trained in conjuration magick like Aicatnar too”. 

For the first time Voada finally voiced her concern about him, 

“I don’t like the way he looks at you my dear, it's like a predator hunting its prey. There are too many ill omens surrounding him” she sighed, “and these spell tomes are just silly, the way  _ they _ teach magick to the mer and the men isn’t how  _ our _ people practiced it, the old magick. You cast elemental magick to defend yourself, our people have always been in tune with nature, the Reachmen hide themselves in the mountain for survival and because they know how to live off the land. Both support each other,  _ this _ is what you should be learning”. Her words had caused her mind to run, Voada’s thoughts making sense to her. She knew how being outside made her feel, the feeling of water or grass under her feet, the cold stone of Markarth didn’t compare. 

Larina opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Voada’s interruption, 

“Yes yes I know what you’re going to say, I know what the punishment for practicing the old magick is, but we are losing so much of our own  _ history _ -”

This time Larina interrupted her, to ask,

“But what makes you so sure it is my history? I wasn’t born or raised in the Reach Voada, they have to train me this way for  _ my _ protection and the court” and finished the last of breakfast, refilling both of their cups with the last of the tea. 

“You're still one of us,” Voada sighed, “I knew that when you first got here, why I’ve kept such an eye on you. The daughter of a noblewoman and the niece of the Jarl, but you didn’t arrive here spoiled, I knew in my old bones that you were one of us” Voada sipped her tea. “This land may not be ours now but it will be again” she added before draining her cup and adding it to Larina’s empty breakfast tray. Though she understood the motivation behind her words, they still worried her. There were small pockets of Forsworn that remained, and she knew from whispers of the servants that that sentiment still existed, she wondered if she would see that bloodshed in her lifetime or if by then she would be far away from Markarth. 

Larina finished the last of her tea and placed her empty cup on the tray for Voada to take away, thanking her for her company: she probably had a lot of work she had left behind but having someone to talk whilst she ate was comforting. It wasn’t until her isolated time recovering from her injury that she realised she missed company during those times -- not that she would have wanted to spend anymore time with the court than was necessary, but the idea of eating with Calcelmo, Aicantar, Mina and the Justiciar appealed to her, perhaps sitting on this balcony and watching the view whilst they conversed. She realised Voada had been watching her lost in her thoughts with a concerned look upon her face, with a reassuring smile Larina slowly rose from her seat, gathering her spell tomes from the tray and limped ahead to hold the door open for her, before heading to her bedroom to dress. 

Returning to her room and settling on her bed, Larina quickly read through the tomes wary of the time now that she was working for Thonar. But the motivation that she held the night before had suddenly disappeared: perhaps it was the realisation that as much as she spent the time reading these books, without being able to practice as she read she wouldn’t be able to grasp the concept of the magick. Between working for Thonar and spending the evening with the court, she wondered if those two hours really were enough time to learn the truth of her power and be able to control it. Rising to wash her face in her basin, Larina dressed in her long sleeved grey linen dress and tied her hair up and pinned it in place with the hair dagger - faintly aware of how monotonous her life had become. If there wasn’t anything else, it was this that motivated her to continue her plan in the face of danger. 

Larina slung her satchel over her shoulder and gathered her shawl, her morning view of the approaching storm and limped to meet Thonar who would be waiting for her outside the Keep. When she finally joined him at his side, he was reluctant at first to approach her closely and take her arm in his: Larina wondered if her actions last night had scared him, the thought filling her a little more with confidence. She made the move of linking her arm with his, noting there was no reaction of fear or flinching, and allowed him to set the pace on their walk to the treasury house. 

“I was thinking Thonar, by the end of today I will probably have Maven’s sketch complete with colour, if there are no immediate clients you want me to commission a piece for yet, maybe you could give me some suggestions on some pieces I could design” hoping she sounded enthusiastic despite her tiredness. 

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about in regards to the sketches” Thonar replied, his usual cocky voice now cool and aloof. Larina was about to ask him what he meant when he added, 

“When we get to the treasury house, not here” Larina had no choice but to accept his words as they continued the rest of the way in silence. 

When they reached the treasury house, Alfa took her shawl from her before Thonar asked her to take her satchel to her room before joining him in his office. Larina caught Rhiada’s eye who offered her a quick flash of a smile before she headed to her own room. Despite the few papers of her own sketches littering her small desk, there wasn’t much in the room that really made it feel like her own space: Larina wondered if she might be able to have some books or sketches brought to the room, perhaps it was something she could ask Thonar. Retrieving the sketches of Maven’s carcinet, Larina headed to his office to show him. 

She found him sitting behind his desk, looking through the papers before him. She hadn’t realised before that his desk and chair were slightly elevated especially to the chair that was placed before it: whoever sat there would always feel miniscule before him. With the exception of Solitude, nowhere else in Skyrim had a treasury house - most nobles and those with riches worth stealing would keep their valuables in their homes or places only they knew about. Here in Markarth even some of the lower nobles in the Reach kept most of their gemstones and heirlooms safe within the treasury house where they were guaranteed protection. Safely protected by the Silver-Blood family for a handful of generations. 

But it wasn’t just the nobles that graced his building. There were hardly any family owned farms within the Reach, war and weather had affected many. If they wanted to keep the farm within their families, to pass down to their children, they came to the Silver-Blood’s to borrow money to keep themselves afloat until they could pay it back - but they never did. Several farms had been acquired when families couldn’t pay back the money they had borrowed or had been bought out by him from the start. His family was ruthless. 

He must have known she was standing there as he finally set down his pen and looked across at her. 

“I wanted to talk about last night” and shifted in his chair, gesturing for her to take the empty one before her. Limping to the chair and sinking into it, Larina laid the drawings on her lap and looked up at him, hating the fact he needed to do this to feel powerful.

“I hope that nothing like that is going to occur here?” although his expression remained cool, his tone feigned humour, Larina faked her smile and shook her head. 

“That only happened because I had been pushed too far, I’ve never felt like that in your company” replying through gritted teeth. 

A smirk quickly flit across Thonar’s face, 

“Well I’m glad to hear that, I have another thing I wanted to talk about, did you bring the sketches from yesterday with you?” Larina nodded and handed them across to him. 

For a few moments he sat in silence regarding them, looking at the two pages of parchment she had given him. 

“Once these are coloured in I am certain these are ready to be set to Maven, I think she will quite enjoy them” but his tone was somewhat sincere and Larina couldn’t help the small feeling of pride. “But I have to ask from now on that any commissions you do will remain in the treasury house, a lockable chest will be brought to you today and at the end of each day I want those sketches left here, is that understood?” at his words Larina nodded, wondering why he suddenly lost trust in her. 

Perhaps her confusion was visible on her face as he added, 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you my dear, but I’ve been made aware that due to your little  _ accident _ you will be spending a bit more time with our new Justiciar, and well -- the Dominion likes to protect those that work in their favour. I would like to see my business working independently from their influences, and support our own city rather” she could see through the falseness of his words, he was only looking to protect his own wealth. 

Larina made a show of rolling her eyes and sighed, 

“Believe me I can think of better ways of spending my afternoons”, at her words Thonar laughed slightly, evidently happy at her response. 

“You know I work with the Silver-Smith’s, and try to source jewells from those we can trust” rising from his seat Thonar leant on the back of his chair and continued addressing her. 

“I know how desperately you want to leave the city my dear but that is because you’re young and inexperienced. Once you see the world for what it truly is you’d be more content in the safety of these walls. Working for me I can show you the benefits of these cities without having to experience their slums and grime” he smirked slightly. 

“Now is there anything else I can help you with?” Larina shook her head and rose from her seat, waiting for him to hand her his sketches rather than take them straight from his desk. Reaching his doorway she remembered her thought from earlier and asked,

“Is there any way I can have some things brought to my office to make it feel more personal? I do need inspiration for my craft, perhaps a few books or paintings”.

With a nod, Thonar returned to his seat and replied, 

“Speak to my servants with your requests and I’ll see what I can do” she took the sight of him shuffling the papers on his desk and picking up his pen as a sign to leave. 

For the rest of the afternoon Larina finalised the last of the sketch of Maven and began slowly adding colour to the concept: sticking with the silvers and blues. Rhiada had arrived with a silver drug filled with cool water and a plate with some bread and cheese on, she was surprised expecting that Thonar’s servants were expected to do that. Still Larina thanked her for her kindness and made it a passing comment. 

Rhiada smiled slightly and shrugged, 

“Well there’s not much company here since… well I’m sure you know what I mean, Thonar doesn’t like being disturbed and Reberrus isn’t really a conversationalist” she had already gathered that impression on her own. “It’s nice to have a little more female company, but please tell me if I’m bothering you, I’d hate to be disturbing you”. 

Larina poured herself a glass of water, feeling foolish that she hadn’t asked for it sooner, the slight ache of a pounding head appearing. 

“No it’s quite alright, I don’t mind the company” and reassured her. Whilst she ate the food, Rhiada lingered, asking for permission to look at the sketches and looked through them.

“Thonar said you had painted his daughter for him, I can see why he asked you to work for us, these are exceptional! Thonar said we were going to get busier in the next few months and I can see why” though it was a harmless comment, and Rhiada had said it in no peculiar way, something about it made her feel unsettled: at the back of her mind she knew some of the pieces were there to build the bigger picture, but she knew something was missing. 

“I’m glad it’s something I like doing, and it’s nice to have a reason to get out of the Keep” she smiled and finished the food. 

With the concept now finished, Larina spent the rest of the afternoon noting what might improve her office and watched as the servants brought in the heavy lockable chest and placed it between her two small bookshelves. She had asked for the key to the lock but the older male Nord shook his head. 

“Thonar will lock the chest in the evening when you all leave” and left her alone in the room. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t trust her. With nothing left to do until Thonar had finished, he still hadn’t given her any suggestion for other concept pieces to depict, Larina packed up her things early and hovered at the entrance, talking to Rhiada. 

She had left to take the finished sketches to Thonar and returned to idly converse for her whilst they waited for Thonar to finish up working, 

“It seems like he’s impressed with it” Rhiada had told her with a smile, “I’m sure you’ll have much more work as the weeks past, you’ll be regretting these moments of stillness”. She hoped so. 

  
  


When Thonar emerged from his office, Larina had to wait as he took her sketches back into her office, locking them into the chest. Whilst she waited the servants brought her her cloak and waited with her holding Thonar’s before they bade the servants and Rhiada a good evening before he began to escort her back to the Keep. Still he kept his distance from her, only offering his hand to help her up the steep stone staircase to the upper walls. Larina couldn’t revel in that small joy for long, knowing that if he in some way feared her, he would be less likely to open up and trust her with his secrets. There was no doubt that the Justiciar’s assumption was correct, something was motivating Thonar secretly, but she doubted whether she had the power to uncover it on her own. 

Outside the golden doors of the Keep Thonar finally broke his silence. 

“So you’re going to be trained in magicka huh? Hopefully this evening you wont set any more furniture ablaze” he mocked, but she was glad to hear that he wasn’t as outwardly fearful of her power as she thought. 

Larina nodded with a slight smile, 

“I guess so” and rubbed the back of her neck, “they’re going to start me on simple spells for the first time and see how I manage, though magicka isn’t something I’m really interested in, but I don’t want to risk hurting anyone” she lied through her teeth. She had had to hide her happiness at realising that she was capable of magicka, that if the gods looked upon her favourably there might be an opportunity that she could attend the College of Winterhold like her father had hoped for. 

“We can easily get by without magicka” Thonar rolled his eyes, “I understand the need for court mages and alchemists as glorified healers, but anything else is laziness or cowardly” she didn’t have time to press him on his views, but his resentment towards mages was clear, and she wondered what had brought it on. 

“Thank you for today” Larina smiled over her shoulder and added, “and thank you for treating me like another one of your employees rather than letting me slide by because I’m in the court. It’s nice to think that you’ve let me work for you based on my talents and not because of my influenc **e** ” knowing her words would flatter him. 

She was glad at least that he was no longer accompanying her inside the Keep or to her rooms, it gave her enough space to visibly shudder about the fake act she put on for him. Heading towards her rooms, Larina halted outside the laboratory and checked her pocket watch for the time: even if she was allowed in to see them she wouldn’t have much time. She needed to return her belongings to her room and fetch the tomes she would need to bring with her. As she hesitated there for a moment, Larina felt a strange, wet feeling lap at the back of her hand. 

“ _ Ergh… _ ” she called out, pulling her hand away and turning on the spot, only to realise that Potema was standing beside her, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. 

“I’m glad it's just you” she laughed and gave the wolf a big fuss, noting the Justiciar lazily walking over to them, the smaller wolf tight at his side. 

For a moment he paused beside her, and she caught his brief glance as he looked her up and down: in this moment she was glad she was dressed better than she usually was coming out of the laboratory. She wished in that moment that he didn’t have to act so formally around her, lest they were caught by people passing and wondered if he felt the same. 

“I thought I’d bring the girls with us today, it’ll be good to get them out of the Keep and in the fresh air, it's been a few days since they were properly walked” Corrilian began walking towards their rooms, and Larina limped along, her hands buried in Potema’s fur. Sensing perhaps her slowness or limping gait, he slowed his stride for her to keep up without causing her any pain. 

“How is your leg healing?” he asked her, his voice cool and steady. 

Larina flushed at the memory of his hand brushing up her thigh, only to be ruined by her painful wince, she wished it was healing faster. 

“It’s getting there” she murmured, “but this limp doesn’t seem to be improving much, which is rather annoying” she sighed. 

“You can’t rush the healing process” he replied back, and she only just caught the look of concern that weighed on his face. 

Pausing outside the door to her room, he added, 

“Perhaps it would be wise to change, remember what you wore when we went to the camp outside Markarth? I think that would be more appropriate” before leaving her to head to his own room. 

As she entered her bedroom, Larina realised that he was right, wearing a dress, especially one of her nicest ones, was perhaps not the best idea for what she was expecting to be a tiring afternoon. She dropped her satchel on her stone table, now remarkably light with most of its contents left behind in her  _ office _ , and limped to sit on the edge of her bed and pull off her shoes. Looking at her hands she realised they trembled slightly, she didn’t realise how nervous she actually was. Using the frame of the end of her bed, Larina pulled herself upright and loosed the back of her dress to pull over her head, leaving her standing in her underclothes and feeling the chill of the room. She took a moment to catch her breath, waiting for her energy to return, if the rest of them saw her like this they might reconsider the lesson. She retrieved her dark riding hosen, a clean tunic and her leather boots from the bottom of her wardrobe before pulling off her underdress and re-dressing herself. Pulling the tunic over her head had knocked the hairpin loose, and Larina watched her reflection in her looking glass as she re-tied her hair up and pinned it in place, hoping she looked less tired and flustered. 

Exiting her room, Larina found the Justiciar already waiting, having changed out of his Thalmor robes. No hint of colour in his wardrobe, she hadn’t realised until she got closer that he was wearing something different to what she had seen before: like usual he was wearing a dark hose, but dark leather boots covered his legs up to his knee. She didn’t realise until she got closer that the jacket he was wearing was a dark purple instead of black, barely distinguishable in the light: the jacket was low collared, exposing the golden skin of his neck and at the end of his shoulders the jacket formed a slight point. The jacket was well tailored to his slim but broad form, lacking the golden branding that would have told her it was an informal piece of Thalmor uniform. He didn’t even wear the thalmor badge he had worn previously in what she had assumed were his own clothes. 

She hadn’t realised how long she had been staring at him until she heard Corrilian clear his throat, and her cheeks flushed pink as she brought her gaze up to his face. 

“I have a gift for you,” his words broke their silence, his tone not giving away any hidden meaning in his words. He offered his hand forward and Larina noticed that in his hand he held a pair of leather gloves. “I sent my servant to the blacksmith’s this morning asking for something similar to what I had in mind, this is the closest thing he had to it, I suppose in a city devoid of magick and proper culture it was to be expected” he rolled his eyes slightly at his words and Larina took them from his hands. 

Loosening the strings on the underside, Larina pulled the leather gloves on and turned her hands over to look at them properly: the material, dark leather, came short below her elbow and covered her hands, leaving only her fingers and thumbs exposed, the palms and tops well protected. As she turned them over, she realised there was a faint, dark purple hue to the material. Stepping forward, Corrilian took her hands in his, and gently tightened the strings until the leather was not too tight but not too loose against her skin. “I enchanted the bracers to withstand flames since that is your given magick, should protect your skin whilst you're still trying to learn how to cast properly”. Larina flexed her fingers in the bracers, surprised at the fluidity of her movement and thanked him, 

“It means I don’t have to feel too guilty about not learning that healing spell” she replied, impulsively standing on the tips of her toes to reach his cheek, gently kissing him, intrigued that her action had taken him by surprise as she continued down ahead without him. 

Even without her limp, she doubted she would’ve got further down the hallway before his quicker stride overtook her and cornered her against the wall, his hands either side of her head stopping her from moving, not that she wanted to. 

“It’s not good manners to toy with me, especially when we don’t have enough time” he murmured in her ear, nipping at her ear lobe. Gently he pulled her away from the wall and with a firm hand on her lower back, directed her to the inner sanctum. 

She hoped that Mina and Aicantar wouldn’t notice the deep red flush of her cheeks when she finally joined them, they themselves dressed a little differently too. Aicantar now in a similar pair of informal robes that she had seen him wear to the camp and she could only assume the robes Mina wore were robes from the college. Slowly Larina realised there was a certain colour significance to what they wore. There was a subtle green hue to Aicantar’s robes and a lighter blue one to Mina’s: were they the colors of their schools of magicka? She wondered if the colour of Corrilian’s jacket had a meaning too or if it was a coincidence, after all her bracers matched him in colour. 

“Looks like you’re all ready” Aicatnar spoke, his tone warm but his face remained cool. The animosity between him and the Justiciar had clearly not improved. “Did you have time to read through the tomes I had sent to you?”. 

Larina sheepishly shook her head and explained, 

“I had a brief glance through them at breakfast this morning, but I couldn’t exactly take them with me to work. Not much of it made sense with not being able to practice them properly”. 

With a sigh Aicatnar replied, 

“No I can’t imagine it would, but hopefully today you can start to get an understanding of those basics, though I doubt it will be anything dangerous enough to warrant our  _ bodyguard _ ” so it was Corrilian’s presence that annoyed him. She knew there was something more to it than the Thalmor’s involvement with the college, she just wished someone finally told her something so she didn’t have to feel like she walked on eggshells when she was with them. 

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with these spells” Mina reassured her, linking arms with her and setting a steady pace as they exited the Keep and began descending down the slope towards the lower city. She was glad they took the main path, more slope than stairs, even in their descent they still irritated her leg. “After all it's my area of expertise and I get the strong feeling that you’re a quick learner” Larina flashed her a brief smile, hoping she was right. With Aicantar pacing ahead, the Justiciar trailed behind them making sure the wolves didn’t run wild and scare the citizens: it was Potema who was more excited at the smells of the market and its people, not that they were too keen to see her, and a few times she bounded ahead, brushing past Larina’s side in excitement, until the stern click of Corrilian’s fingers snapped her back to his side. 

The sound of clashing metal and thundering water told them they were near to the foundry and mine, strange to see it working in its real purpose rather than the Silver-Blood’s personal prison. Aicantar guided them ahead, down the dirt and stone path that followed the wall to the collapsed Warrens behind the rocks. Cidhna Mina had been built into the rock face and then burrowed down, it wasn’t until Madanach’s revolution that they realised that the mountainside was riddled with hidden dwemer tunnels that connected further around the Reach than anyone had realised. For months her uncle had instructed the city’s guard to hunt any entrance they found and to seal it up, she wondered if they had found them all, doubting the possibility of them all being found. As they finally stepped foot into the open clearing of the Warrens, Larina tried to hide her own surprise alongside the others. .

When she had been free to walk around the city, the Warrens had never been a place to pique her interest: the house of Markarth’s homeless, drunks and skooma addicts. Like the rest of the city, the doors had once glinted golden in the sunlight. She had heard these were nobler homes when the city was more populated, until Ulfric’s men wiped out half the city - landslides from the rock face had demolished the rest. The land stretched in a semi-circle around the bottom of the mountain side, towards the middle a pool of dirty water had formed, the result of a small stream off the river trickling down the slope: with nowhere else for it to go it had stagnated. Several above ground houses dotted the area, the ones against the walls of the city in better condition to the ones at the base of the mountain that had been mostly reduced to rubble. Still most of the above ground homes were partially destroyed, several large boulders littered the area, and Larina wondered if they had tumbled down the rockface or had been flung over the walls during Ulfric’s assault. As Aicantar guided them closer to the pool of water, Larina’s foot sent a glass bottle skittering across the floor, many of them littered the area. 

There was no sound here, the noise of the foundry sounding eerily distant despite its proximity. Gesturing towards a large golden door that was built into the rock face at a slant, Aicantar explained, 

“Most of the people that were removed from the Warrens sheltered down there, apparently there were several rooms below ground, some destroyed by cave-ins but enough space to give them sanctuary. Those that weren’t welcome down there, or in the rest of the city, sheltered in the rest of the buildings above ground” before he settled on one of the boulders that were strewn across the landscape. Something about the sight of the door made her feel nervous. Dropping her satchel beside his feet, Aicantar sighed before lowering his hood. “I think it would be best for a while if Mina takes your under her arm and teaches you a few things about healing spells before we try and see if you can manage any destruction magicka again”. From the corner of her eye Larina noticed the Justicar move to a boulder opposite, crossing one leg over the other and watching patiently, the wolves slowly wandering around the area sniffing at what they could find. 

Larina shrugged off her cloak and draped it over her satchel on the floor, keenly aware that the eyes of the two mer were watching her: she realised why Aicantar had chosen this spot when she joined Mina where she stood, realising the ground was completely level. 

“It’s best if you try and ground yourself, maybe step your feet apart a little” Mina’s tone coming across as guiding rather than lecturely. Larina copied her stance and raised her hands like Mina’s, her hands above her hips and palm upwards. 

“It’s best to think of things that make you feel safe and secure whilst you try and conjure healing magicka,” Mina explained, “it's easier for those that have it come naturally but for us I find it helps if we align memories or thoughts with the spells we are casting”. 

“Do you really think that is wise?” Aicantar called out from his seat, his tone shifting slightly to concern. 

Mina’s voice was not short in reassurance or trust, 

“Well Larina has already shown to us her magick is centered around memory and emotion, I think it's safe to assume that encouraging her to find these centres will help her unlock it” the Khajiit gave her a reassuring glance, and Larina tried her best to mimic her actions: Larina watched as Mina closed her eyes and gently turned her wrists, the air around her palms turning a golden hue. 

Larina tried desperately to think of those memories, safe and secure before she reached Markarth: she was safe here, she couldn’t lie about that, but the love and the warmth that her parents gave her was missing. She tried to think of the smell of her mother making hot stew with fresh bread, her father teaching her about the plants in the garden, or the long walks in the woods that her brother took her on. But those memories were like a reflection in a disrupted puddle, what she remembered was not the same. For a brief second a golden spark flashed in the palm of her hand, but not for long, not brilliantly. 

For almost an hour Larina tried in exasperation to cast that simple healing spell, Mina’s patience stronger than hers. 

“Why don’t we take a break and have something to eat, to re-energise you” Mina crossed the distance between them and gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ve been repressing your magicka for so long, I’d be more surprised if you perfectly grasped it right away”. At her words Larina reluctantly nodded, not wanting to let her annoyance show in case she came across as childish. Watching her awkwardly, and painfully, try to sit on the ground, Aicantar gave up his perch on the boulder for her, sitting on the floor next to where Mina was crouched. From her own satchel she retrieved a few chunks of bread and divided it between them, unstopping a few bottles of weak honeymead, explaining that she had gotten them from the kitchens that morning. 

Finishing her mouthful of bread, Larina decided to ask, 

“Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re all wearing the colours of your schools of magicka right?” her perceptions confirmed by Mina and Aicantar’s nod: the Justiciar remained silent but his gaze was on hers, whilst he kept his wolves at bay who were eagerly watching him eat. Testing her theory, Larina added, “Well I know that Mina studied restoration magick, but I know you both studied conjuration yet you wear different colours. Unless I’m confused...” Larina added with a shrug. At her words a strange smirk flit across Aicantar’s face, finally speaking

“No you are quite right Larina,  _ we _ are all wearing the colours of our schools whether we meant to or not” the smirk changed into a strange grin, “why don’t you tell her, Justicar, what area of conjuration you specialised in?”. Larina watched uncomfortably as Corrilian rose to his feet, brushing the crumbs from his dark hosen and sending his wolves off to explore the area with a quick flick of his wrist. 

“Today we are supposed to be focus on assisting Miss Deveraux into channelling her magicka into a way that doesn’t kill half of Markarth’s court, if you have a problem with me Aicantar, you know where my office is,” his tone heavy with boredom rather than malice. The air around them shifted uncomfortably, but she knew they weren’t about to descend into arguments in front of her or Mina. Larina took this as a sign that their break was over and it was time to resume practice again. 

Regurgitating memories after memories, Larina was unable to conjure up another spark brighter than her first, her patience beginning to wear thin despite Mina’s words of encouragement. It didn’t help that the clouds had begun to darken and the air chilled, a storm was creeping in and she had no interest in practicing weak magick in the rain. 

Exasperated Aicantar had spoke,

“Perhaps we should call it a day now rather than tiring Larina out before we’ve even begun practicing properly” Larina had shot him a withering look that had silenced him on the spot: whether it was his intention or not, she had interpreted his words the wrong way, angry that she was unable to grasp the simplest of spells. Especially after her burst of magicka had terrified them all. As her heart began to sink, she felt the gentle pattering of raindrops on the skin of her exposed upper arms. 

Larina felt the Justiciar bridge the gap between them, a firm hand on her waist guiding her backwards until she felt her heel meet the waters edge. A swift, gentle hand, either side of her waist effortlessly lifted her onto a boulder half submerged in the murky pond of the water. 

Catching her strange glance, the Justiciar muttered, 

“I’ve had an idea…” before turning his back on her. 

For a few moments Larina caught her breath as she watched Corrilian click his fingers and his wolves quickly return to his side. Out loud he muttered a few, brief words in a language she did not recognise but sounding unfamiliar to the aldermis she had heard before: Larina’s heart sunk as she watched the two wolves begin to prowl the edge of the water, their hackles raised and teeth bared. She hadn’t seen them growl before, and now their anger was directed at her. With a quick flick of her wrist, she saw Corrilain summon another wolf, made of purple hued shadows, appearing with a strange sound and beginning prowling around the opposite edge of the water. 

“Perhaps your aunt was right….” his voice broke the silence, cold and bored. “Perhaps you are a spoiled brat who has had everything given to her and yet she still plays the victim” he began to prowl the edge of the water too, his hands clasped behind his back as he carefully, predictably stepped. 

“You’ve shown us the strength of your magicka yet you're unable to grasp a simple spell we expect  _ children _ to manage” his face twisted into a smirk, “no wonder my superiors made the right decision to prevent  _ your _ kind from attending our prestigious colleges. We shouldn’t be training you at all” he scoffed. 

Momentarily stung, Larina quickly realised what he was doing and shook her head, refusing to play along. 

“ _ Don’t _ ” she murmured, unable to raise her voice any louder, Corrilian said nothing but smirked. She knew he was trying to elicit an emotional response from her, trying to recreate her explosion from the night before. But she didn’t want to do it, it was too risky and she was scared of hurting them, she didn’t understand her power yet or how to control it. 

“ _ Enough! _ ” Aicantar interrupted, voice raised and his features blazing with annoyance. In a few strides he was almost before the Justiciar before Corrilian lazily flicked his wrist with a smirk and summoned another wolf: the purple beast standing between them, its teeth bare and snarling, eyes locked onto Aicantar’s horrified face. 

“This is madness Corrilian” the mer spat, his voice more wary than his expression: for a brief moment Corrilian looked over to her, watching her carefully with fierce eyes before turning away again, lifting his chin with a quick, sharp jab. Aicantar was cut off from finishing his sentence as the beast lept for him, and quickly he raised his hand, summoning a fully formed flame atronach that she had struggled to summon herself. 

From her perch Larina watched in horror as the two conjured beings began fighting each other, Aicantar sheltered by his atronach as it flung balls of fire at the four legged beast: as the flames finally made contact with it, it crumbled to a pile of ash with a yelp and she thought it was finally over. Until with a flick of his wrist Corrilian sent the other wolf bounding over to join the fight. 

The sky had begun to darken more, the cool air beginning to raise the hairs on her arms, they would be caught in the storm if they didn’t end this fight. But she knew Corrilian would keep pushing forward until she finally manifested her power, it was down to her to stop the fight. She extended her hands shakingly before her, but no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, she felt nothing. Rapidly Larina began to think of her fear in the museum, her anger at her aunt, the feeling of her palms on fire and the smell of burning wood.  _ Nothing _ . Opening her eyes she desperately met Mina’s gaze, hoping she might be able to intervene and stop them, especially if they could see she was struggling. But from Mina’s gaze she could tell she was terrified to intervene, perhaps fearful that she would be caught in the crossfire. Her paws were already glowing with the golden light of her healing magick. 

But something changed. Larina had assumed Corrilian had started this to motivate her into accessing her powers again. But now his attention was focused on Aicantar, whose face had twisted into anger. Corrilian’s smirk was gone, replaced with a look of pure hatred. With a sharp thrust of his arm forward, his hand shot a dark purple flash of light to the ground before Aicantar’s flame atronach, the strange sound it made ringing in her ears. In the purple light, she watched assuming it would be another wolf, until the humanoid figure appeared out of the purple hue. Mirroring the appearance of the flame atronach, the purple figure crackled with electricity, countering the fire blows Aicantar’s atronach sent careening its way. It was like a thunder storm had been brought to ground, each flash of lightning blinding her enough to attempt to shield her eyes with her arm from its brightness. The two mer still standing definitely behind the atronachs they had cast, waiting for each other to falter. 

It was too much, too bright and too loud and the wind around them had begun to pick up. Stray wisps of her hair were battering around her face, the feeling of fear and anger beginning to overcome her. They had brought her here to manage and control her emotions and magicka, and now for some reason unknown to her, they were at each other's throats. She knew she had to end it. 

“ **_Stop it_ ** ” 

She thought her words would come out as pleading as they were wrenched from her body, refusing to allow herself to move, fearrful of causing another reaction: but instead they rang around the Warrens, sounding clearly against the noise of fire, electricity and the storm. Again she had no control over her magicka. The wind whipped around them suddenly, blowing dirt into their faces as she watched as Mina raised her paws quickly to shield her eyes. Several empty bottles hit the remnants of stone and rubble and distingeragrated into shards of glass. For a brief moment, several smaller stones before her, submerged in the murky water, rose from the ground and aligned together, lightning crackling between them until she realised in horror what she was doing again and tried to make her mind relax. 

_ The distant smell of the woods in the rain _ .

_ The sound of birdsong and frogs croaking _ .

_ The feeling of her hands running through soft fur _ .

The sound of the rock figure suddenly exploding outward wrenched her eyes open, watching in horror as the blast, or surprise, unbalanced the two mer: their fixations distracted enough that their power waned, causing the atronachs to explode in on themselves. The Warrens lighting up in the vibrant flash of orange and purple. The storm was suddenly eerily still, and Larina felt her body shake, her scar aching with it. Regaining his composure, she watched as the Justiciar exhaled sharply, he turned and with a few long stride waded through the water to her, lifting her off the rock with ease into his arms: as he carried her to one of the abandoned rocks, retrieving her cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders, she wondered where Mina and Aicantar’s minds were running to. 

Kneeling before her, he finally spoke, his voice clear and calm. 

“Her magicka, her  _ emotions _ , are keenly linked to her surroundings” his steady gaze met her shaken one. “ The elements seem to guide you in the magicka  _ your _ people perceive of the old gods, no wonder you have such a strong affinity for Kynareth” his dark eyes were watching her steadily. 

Glancing up Larina saw Aicantar’s face still wracked in anger, looking like he was about to speak until Mina’s paw on his arm steadied him. 

“But what does that mean?” she asked, her voice shaken but intrigued. 

“She could be a weapon far stronger than we can possibly imagine” he spoke calmly, swiftfully and gracefully rising to his feet, gently pulling her up with him. 

Aicantar finally brushed past Mina’s steadying hand, his anger reigniting. 

“You will  _ not _ use her as a weapon” he spat, Aicantar’s face mere inches from the Justiciar’s. “You can see how draining her magicka is upon her, what use does the Thalmor have for such a weak and unpracticed mage?”. If Larina had more energy she would have been angered by Aicantar’s words, but clarity had slowly begun to return to her, and she realised that in his own way he was trying to protect her. 

With a bored drawled Corrilian replied, 

“Your uncle himself has raised suspicions on what the Silver-Blood is doing with the mine filled with supposed  _ Afflicted _ , this man controlled the last uprising of the Forsworn in the Reach. The people who followed the old gods that I suspect  _ she _ has an affinity for. What do you think will happen when people slowly begin to figure that out?” still his tone remained cool: Larina wondered what part of Thalmor training had shown them how to manage their emotions that way. 

With a sigh, Mina finally spoke, bringing Larina’s satchel to her, her own now slung over her shoulder. 

“We both want to keep her safe Aicantar, but you know that Corrilian is right. If the rest of the court begins to suspect where her powers lie, what do you think will happen? The Jarl’s wife wanted her exiled from the  _ city _ after she accidentally summoned a fire atronach” her tone was laced with concern. 

Aicantar did not break his gaze from the Justiciar as he finally spoke again, 

“You do  _ not _ take lessons in magicka with  _ him _ unless we are present, is that understood” Larina realised that Aicantar’s words were addressed to her: before she had a chance to protest he began to storm ahead, returning to the Keep. 

With an exhausted sigh Larina reminded them, 

“If we return after him the court might begin to two and two together and make five, it's probably best we head back too” after her terrible performance today all she wanted to do was keep practicing, but her strength was beginning to fade. She didn’t want to give her uncle, more likely her  _ aunt _ , an excuse to cease her tuition. 

Supported by Mina, they begin the slow ascent back to the Keep, Corrilian and his wolves slowly keeping pace behind them. Whatever thought she had of burying herself deep under her blankets and sleeping through the night were squashed when she remembered she still had to attend the court. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah, you guys have complimented me on the frequency of updating my fic and then I leave you hanging for days ;w; hopefully this long fic makes up for it!  
> Hopefully you're eager to find out what has caused Aicantar and Corrilian to despise each other so, a little spoiler but in college they were actually good friends...
> 
> Hope you're all staying as happy and healthy as can be guys <3 and thanks for your patience!


	38. Penumbra

**Penumbra:** _ the shadow cast by the Earth or the moon over an area experiencing a partial eclipse  _

  
  


When they had finally reached the Keep, Aicantar stormed ahead into the laboratory, muttering under his breath in aldermis, too quiet for her to hear even if she could understand it. Larina reassured Mina she could make it back to her room alone, hoping the Khajiit would follow after the angered Mer and calm him down. Without a backwards glance, Corrilian stormed ahead to his office, his wolves close to his heels, and with a sigh, Larina slowly began to limp towards her room. 

The steam of the dwemer machinery only made her more keenly aware that her skin was slick with sweat, the cool air of the city had otherwise kept her distracted. Her body ached and she felt like she was dragging herself through tar, but the quiet voice in the back of her mind encouraged her to keep that to herself. Worried that if the others believed she found her lesson too taxing, they wouldn’t keep teaching her. 

Returning to her dimly lit room, Larina found a clean dress laid out across her bed with a note in Voada’s scrawl. 

“ _ After your lesson today I assumed you would like to freshen up, a bath has already been drawn _ ”. With a smile Larina shrugged off her cloak and lazily discarded it on the floor, and began untying the strings that bound the bracers to her arms. The leatherwork was intricately designed yet impractical for the usual miner’s gear the blacksmith sold, its purple hue catching her eye again. Her mind flashed with the realisation of its purple. Sinking onto the edge of her bed with a sigh, Larina recalled the spell battle between Aicantar and Corrilian, his magicka a vibrant purple. She had seen spellcasting before, but nothing of that colour, the only answer she could figure was that it related to his area of study. 

Leaving her bracers on her nightstand, Larina gathered her clean dress and some cleaning potions and headed to the bathing room. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

In any other situation Larina would have mentally moaned about taking a bath in the current bathing room. The light was far too dim, and the cold stone and creaky windows emphasised the coldness of the room. No wonder there were no objections to building a new bathing room adapting the dwemer technology of the Keep. But right now the cool air was reassuring to her, the heat in her skin still had not cooled. Even when she had dipped a cautious toe into the clean bathing water, she didn’t reignite the fire to reheat the lukewarm water. 

Now submerged in the soapy water, Larina’s thick, damp curls tumbled over the rim of the bathing tub as she chewed at her thumb. Her mind should have been focused on her failure of the day before her, but instead she couldn’t get rid of the thought of Aicantar and Corrilian fighting. How quickly it had turned to hatred. Such a strong word but she could describe it no other way. She remembered again when they had fought in the Great Hall, their argument exacerbated by Estormo’s foolish comment, thinking of the gossip that Mina had divulged with her. She knew that there was a piece missing, there had to be something _more_ that their hatred stemmed from other than whether magicka schools should be purely attended by the Mer. Washing the cool water over her legs she wondered if she would ever find out. 

After the skin on her fingers had begun to prune, Larina had finally - shakingly - dragged herself out of the basin and began to pat herself dry with the clean linen. Again her narcissism called to her, and standing before the long looking glass, she dropped the linen to the floor to regard herself. She still retained some of the pale, thinness from her accident, her appetite and Voada’s overfeeding now in competition with the exhaustion of her power. Her appearance appeared at war with itself: her skin appeared paler than ever, the bones in her hips, shoulders and cheeks more emphasised despite her flesh slowly filling out, the purple hue of tiredness appearing beneath her eyes. But the dark curls of her hair had only gotten thicker and her lips fuller. With a resigned sigh, Larina turned her back on her reflection and began to dress, encouraging herself to drop the pretense that she would ever develop a womanly figure. 

Pinning her still slightly damp curls to the top of her head, Larina pulled on her short sleeved, blue linen dress and regarded herself one final time. She had to admit, with a shudder, that Thonar was right, the colour blue did suit her. Leaving her dirty clothes piled on the chair, knowing that a servant would deal with them, Larina picked up the corner of her skirt and began her limping pace towards the dining hall.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

The deeper she had got into the Keep, the higher she felt the temperature increase. This was more than the residual steam of the dwemer technology, she felt the sweat begin to drip on the back of her neck and her usually loose dress cling to her skin. Larina wondered what had caused the increase of temperature, glad she had the time for her cold bath. 

Joining the rest of the court in the dining hall, she saw that she wasn’t the only one struggling with the heightened temperature of the Keep. The men of the table had slipped off their jackets and sat in only their tunics, slipping into her seat beside Thonar, Larina tried to ignore the beads of sweat that decorated his forehead. He poured her a glass of wine before reaching into the pocket of his jacket and retrieving a small glass vial, and poured the contents into her glass before handing it to her: noticing her suspicious glance he reassured her with a sharp smile, 

“A revitalizing tonic, I assumed they ran you dogged in your lesson today, and I’d rather not lose your stimulating conversation this evening” he smirked and encouraged her to drink, and reluctantly Larina took a sip. It tasted somewhat the same, apart from the slick aftertaste and the faint taste of salt. 

Dinner began to be served, but for once the hot dishes of fish and vegetables remained steadily untouched. Even her uncle’s gluttony had been halted, the heat of the Keep too much for its court. Daciana’s hair had been pulled back, the tightness of her braid emphasising the taut lines of her face, attempting to cool herself with constant glasses of wine and a fan in her other hand. A few times Larina had flashed her a quick glance, but since she had arrived at the table her aunt neglected to notice her presence. The only people at the table who appeared unbothered by the heat were the Silver-Smith’s, despite the small beads of sweat on their faces. Larina wondered if it was due to their previous life in Hammerfell. Seated before her, Mina picked slowly at her food, her fur slightly frizzy from the warmth. She had wondered how the heat would affect their Khajiit and Aldmeri companions, but this evening only Estormo had joined them: Larina knew that Calcelmo would still be overworking himself in Karthwasten, rushing to record as much data as possible before Thonar inevitably banned him from accessing the camp all together. But she wondered what had prevented the presence of Corrilian and Aicantar. 

  
  


Wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, Thonar muttered in her ear, “I have half a mind to blame you for this weather with your sudden emergence of magicka” he smirked, before draining the rest of his glass. Unsure how to answer, Larina’s face remained cool. “Of course I’m only joking my dear” he smirked, his hand under the table squeezing her knee, and she tried her best not to flinch in disgust. “Bothela says we may have a day or two of unbearable heat before it is broken by a storm” there was something about his expression that Larina could not place and she wondered when he had the time to converse with the alchemist, until he added. “Hopefully that storm will wash away that damned camp”. Struggling to find the right response, Larina remained silent, as the rest of the court lazily picked at the last of their food until her uncle retired them all to the Great Hall. 

  
  
  


If it hadn’t been for Mina’s companionship, she would have felt completely alienated from the table. Neither Aicantar or Corrilian had made an appearance, and Thonar had left them to join her uncle and his steward at a game of cards, the absence of the older Silver-Blood brother glaringly obvious. Still her aunt refused to acknowledge her presence at the table, despite the few feeble attempts Kerah had made at trying to join her into the conversation. Mina had feigned ignorance at Daciana’s attempt at ostracising her niece, her drunkenness becoming more apparent, realising she couldn’t control attention of the Khajiit, she resigned her with a bored sigh. 

“So your aunt still isn’t over it?” Mina murmured into her ear and poured her a glass of wine: Larina had never seen her sip more than a single glass, and for the first time watched her pour another. Larina shook her head and with a sigh responded, “I can’t really blame her…. I almost set the Keep on fire”. 

Mina regarded her with a curious look, “She  _ did _ taunt you Larina, it's not your fault how you responded to that provocation” despite the surety of her words, Mina still murmured it, perhaps knowing her acceptance on the court was based upon Daciana’s view of her. 

“I had hoped that today would have gone better than it did” Larina murmured annoyed before taking a large sip of her wine. 

“The Justiciar said you had done surprisingly well…” Estormo interjected, perhaps attempting to finally join a conversation rather than being stuck on the peripheral. “In fact rather well for someone who had not practised magicka before”. Larina remained silent, slowly sipping her wine as she interpreted the young mer’s words. She didn’t need to be reminded of what his opinions were on people like her studying magicka at the Dominion’s prestigious schools, so why was he parroting the Justiciar’s praise. Still she wondered why he hadn’t joined them yet. 

“When did you see the Justiciar?” Larina asked, her gaze slowly lifting from her glass as she ignored Estormo’s regurgitated praise and asked a question of her own. 

Estormo shot her a curious glance before responding, 

“This evening before dinner, he said he wouldn’t be able to join us this evening as he had a lot of documents to work through before he travels to Rorikstead in a few days” Larina remained silent but acknowledged his reply with a nod of her head. Another trip for the Justiciar, it had only been a few weeks since the last one, she was certain Ondolemar had never left the Keep this much when he was here. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes with a sigh. “Is everything alright?” she heard Mina’s soft prying purr. Nodding and reopening her eyes, Larina replied, 

“Yes… just a little tired”. She had begun to feel woozy, her eyes heavy in her head: She hadn’t even taken a sip of her third glass of wine yet. Larina wondered if something had changed in the expression on her face when the Khajit added concerned, 

“You’ve gone a little pale Larina, perhaps it's best you call it a night ready for practice again tomorrow?” her amber eyes tinged slightly with concern. Larina nodded, knowing that her words made sense and her bed was calling to her. Rising from her seat, Larina bid goodnight to Mina and Estormo, the young Mer surprisingly wishing that she found some good rest. She wondered if Corrilian had told him about her lesson, how terribly she had performed, remembering how he had described her as a  _ weapon _ .

There was little point in bidding her aunt goodnight, and when she cast her eye across the room to hopefully catch her uncle’s gaze, she was surprised to see that Corrilian had joined him at his table. She hadn’t even seen him enter the room and wondered how long he had been there, her presence still unacknowledged by the one person in the room she’d hoped for. Stalling no longer, Larina limped out of the room and headed towards her own chambers. 

_ I wonder how long it will be until Daciana’s talks to me again _ , Larina mused to herself as she crossed the Lower Hall to the sound of rumbling dwemer technology: if you had asked her seldom a week ago if she was vying for her aunt’s attention she would have politely laughed in your face. But her uncle had barely acknowledged her at the dining table, and though she had not seen Corrilian enter, he hadn’t approached them either. Despite their proximity at dinner, she was not greeted by Thonar’s pawing hands either. She wondered if her outburst the night before had enshrouded them with unease until she felt an arm link with her hers, and felt a heavy breath in her ear. 

“You looked a little unsteady on your feet as you left my dear” Thonar teased in her ear, his grip too strong for her to shrink out of. Stepping back into the warmth of the Inner Sanctum had caused her to feel even more drowsy, her step had even slowed enough for her to notice her own imbalance. 

“I’m quite alright thank you Thonar,” Larina reassured him with a false smile, “I think I’m just a little tired after my lesson”. Still his grip persisted. 

“You did surprise us with that little outburst of yours” Thonar teased, “but your aunt informed me that your mother was partial to them when she was younger, especially in the heat of an argument”. Larina’s eyes narrowed but she remained silent, Daciana nor her uncle had divulged this information to her. It was at her uncle’s command after all that she received these lessons to control herself, when were they going to inform her that this power ran in the family?  _ Perhaps Daciana was ashamed of her connection to it _ , Larina mused to herself before Thonar interrupted her thoughts. 

“Hopefully these lessons won't exhaust you for working for me in the morning” Larina wondered if his tone suggested he was joking, but she shook her head nonetheless and reassured him that she would be fine after an early night. He no longer regarded her with subtle warriness, she wondered if in her tired state he perceived her to be weaker, maybe he had found out at her failure in her lesson during the day. She needn’t be reminded that that was how he preferred her. 

“I’d like you to start on some new projects tomorrow,” his words interrupted her thoughts again, “ I think it's time we sent out prospective designs to some of the noble families in Skyrim, gain their attention, entice them. For now you’ll have full artistic control until we see where the interest really lies” . Larina couldn’t hide her interest, it was just a shame that she had to work for Thonar to oversee this project: she had finally found a skill that she was useful at and was practical, even before her outburst she knew her familial connections would only get her so far. Forgetting the fact that she was spying for the Dominion, she had no other way to earn her own money or freedom. 

“I’m looking forward to it Thonar,” Larina smiled through her teeth as she unlinked her arm from his and used her weight to push open her chamber door. “Thank you for assisting me back to my room,” she added feigning politeness, “I was tireder than I thought, but I really should get some rest to be ready to work tomorrow”. Larina flashed him a small smile and had hoped to duck under his arm into her room. But Thonar remained unmoved, his frame blocking the empty space in her doorway, not letting her pass. Hoping to not let him sense her fear, Larina flashed him a small smile as she attempted to limp a side-step, but Thonar’s stubborn figure remained unmoving. His otherwise cool demeanour had shifted only in his eyes, and Larina felt her stomach flip. 

She didn’t have the strength to push past him, nor stop him from following after her into her room, and she knew that once that heavy golden door closed behind her there was no escape. The thick dwemer stone walls were too thick for the court to hear her screams, even if they were any closer. Larina felt her breath hitch in her throat, hoping that Thonar would come to his senses and let her past. 

After what felt like an age, Larina saw his eyes finally widen and she wondered what had gained his attention. Echoing through the empty, dimly lit corridor, Larina heard the deep growl that had caused Thonar’s fearful expression. Potema padded down the hallway, her teeth bare and snarling, taking up the empty space between them before Thonar broke away. Casting them both a strange look, Thonar muttered to her that he would see her tomorrow before storming off down the hallway, casting a few backwards glances and murmuring under his breath. 

Before she had a chance to stop her, Potema darted through the gap in her doorway and into Larina’s room. With a sigh Larina limped after her and closed the heavy door behind her, and for once double checking that she had locked it. The low burning fire illuminated the room, and Larina blamed it for the heavy heat that she walked into. Tomorrow she would leave it unlit. 

Potema was curled on the cold stone floor before her, tongue lolling out of her mouth and panting. Using her stone table for support, Larina lowered herself into a crouch on the floor before sinking her hands and face into the fur at Potema’s nape. 

“You’re always there at the right time huh girl….” Larina murmured into her ear, giving the silken fur a scratch. After a few moments comforted in the wolf’s fur, Larina slowly and unsteadily pulled herself to her feet: limping slowly around the room, Larina lit a few of the candles for comfort before extinguishing the fire fully, at her action Potema sprung from her spot on the cold floor and onto the edge of her bed. 

Larina rolled her eyes with a sigh and murmured, 

“You’re lucky you helped me out this evening, otherwise I’d be kicking you out” the beast had already curled herself into a position of comfort. With a resigned sigh, Larina slowly pulled her dress over her head and draped it over a chair, before pulling on her nightgown and sinking onto the bed beside Potema. The air of her room was too warm to dive beneath her blankets, and she positioned herself awkwardly on her side, ignoring the dull ache of her leg, to curl up alongside the wolf. 

Burying her face in Potema’s fur again, Larina murmured a sleepy thank you as she succumbed to sleep.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Larina awoke that morning to her sheets stickily clinging to her skin. The fire was dead in its hearth but still the room remained too warm and close. She awoke too hot and alone: too warm to fall back asleep, Larina pulled herself groggily out of bed and limped towards her balcony, forgoing a shawl or shoes, hoping to find a reprieve for the heat.  _ How had Potema managed to sneak out whilst she was still asleep _ , Larina thought to herself, the delays of sleep still lingering. Perhaps Corrilian had noticed her absence and instinctively knew where she was, letting himself into her room and retrieving her. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she realised it was stranger than she realised. 

Ignoring the dull ache in her thigh, Larina slowly lowered herself into an awkward seating position on the cushion on her balcony and began to watch the sunrise over the Reach: no birdsong greeted her this morning, the air before her shimmering with heat. It was unseasonably warm for Rain’s Hand, especially when the Reach was usually plagued with frequent rainfall and mist. Even during the summer months when it was hot and the old stone walls trapped the heat of the midyear sun, it wasn’t as close as this. There was already a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” Voada’s voice finally interrupted her thoughts as she crouched low to offer Larina her breakfast tray. “You would not believe how hot it is in the kitchens,” but Larina could guess by the thick beads of sweat on the older Breton’s forehead. Larina watched as Voada caught her breath and cooled herself in the faint breeze on her balcony, and she was somewhat glad that she wasn’t this overheated. 

“There’ll be a storm before the evening is out, mark my words” the older Breton’s voice reassured. Swiping some honey onto her bread, through a mouthful Larina replied, 

“It doesn’t look like a storm is coming”, a look of confusion plastered on her face. 

“Oh believe me it's coming, I feel it in my bones,” Voada flashed her a knowing smile. “I heard about your lesson too…” Larina’s face scrunched up in annoyance, wondering how the older Breton had found out. 

Between mouthfuls of honeyed bread Larina sighed, 

“It was disastrous, I still wasn’t able to summon the same atronach I destroyed the Great Hall with”. 

Voada cast her a strange look before she responded, 

“I heard you actually summoned bolts of lightning into the Warrens, I wouldn’t be surprised if this was your doing” the older Breton cast a gesture across the warm, hazy view of the Reach. Larina cast her a quizzical look as she remerebd her lesson from the day before. She had thought it was just a coincidence that the skies had begun to darken and the air chilled the more frustrated she had become. She had realised with a dawning clarity that it wasn’t Corrilian’s spiteful words that had finally triggered her emotional response, but watching him and Aicantar fight: their unfeigned rage towards each other and will to harm. 

Forgetting her curiosity at the older Breton’s words, Larina asked, “Do you think I am responsible for this?” her eyes worried and regarding Voada. Leaning against the stone railing of her balcony, Voada sighed before responding. 

“I have told you numerous times that our people were more attuned to their surroundings and the nature they lived in, the reason why the Old Gods granted them their power”, as she spoke Larina noticed the fine lines of wisdom littering her face. “When Ulfric’s men swarmed the Reach and decimated our people, it was the first thing they outlawed, the practice of the old magick and the worship of _our_ gods. Yet now they rage against the Empire now that they can no longer worship Talos” Voada smirked to herself. “There were those in our tribes who were able to summon the wrath of the wilderness whenever they pleased, the storm of the skies, the breath of the mountains. But when we were banned for our practices, the old knowledge slowly began to die out,” finally Voada regarded her with an expression of wariness. “Yet you still hold it my dear,” her voice touched with defiance, “and those mer think they can draw it out of you with their practices?” she scoffed and retrieved Larina’s empty plate before helping the younger Breton to her feet. 

“I don’t know what you suggest I could do,” Larina murmured resignedly. “You my uncle would allow me to practice though things? The only reason he’s allowing me to train with Aicantar, Mina and Corrilian is because he’s scared I might burn the Keep down”, Larina smirked at her own words. Her uncle had barely been able to maintain a few moments of eye contact with her and she assumed it was only from fear. 

Voada squeezed her in a one armed hug with a slight smile as she responded, 

“I know you’re doing your best my dear, and some lessons are better than none, but you won't be able to unleash your true powers this way” Voada sighed, “ _ they _ cannot teach our old magick” before finally heading back into her room to leave Larina standing on her balcony alone. 

For a few moments Larina enjoyed that solitary peace, watching the day break across the Reach and the heat remaining untempered. Returning to her room, she splashed her face with lukewarm water to clean and bundled her curls back into the messy bun atop of her head. Despite only cleaning it the night before, the heat and the restless movements of her sleep had only exacerbated the frizziness of her curls. Larina slowly dressed in a short sleeved tunic before pulling her brown coloured kirtle over her head and pulling on her shoes. Her arrangement was less formal than the day’s previous, but she realised it was too warm for her to dress in her prettier long sleeved linen dresses. Pulling her satchel over her shoulder, Larina began her limp towards the entrance of the Keep. 

Again Thonar had not met her in the Inner Sanctum like he had her first day, and she worried that the lack of his presence meant he was no longer interested in her. The additional heat of the steam of the dwemer technology only added to the wild appearance of her curls. She hadn’t known it to be this hot inside the Keep since her arrival. 

As the guards opened the heavy golden doors to the Keep towards her, Larina was blinded by the early morning sunlight, disappointed there was no reprieve from the heat outside, the air outside only slightly cooler. It wasn’t until she passed under the waterfall that thundered ahead that she felt a brief moment of coolness: pausing for a moment she looked over the city, waves of heat puncturing the streets below, its few early morning inhabitants already drenched with beads of sweat. The skies were slightly overcast, shadowed with a murky blue that hinted of a storm, but when it would break nobody could tell: they were suffering under a heat that could only be broken by a storm.

Larina trudged ahead towards the Treasury House, and for the first time in a few days, her mind lept to those stuck in Karthwasten and the mines: they were probably struggling even more in the heat than those in the city. For a brief moment Larina was overwhelmed with a feeling of guilt, it had been a while since she had thought about Calcelmo or Drulis, or the rest of the students stuck in the camp, she wondered if they were still alive or had been trapped underground as well. It was obvious to those with even a slight amount of intelligence, that Thonar benefited from their imprisonment in his new addition of a silver mine. She wondered why her uncle had not stopped Thonar or his mercenaries from grabbing the land, surely it was obvious the power play at hand? Reminded of Drulis’ fear of being stuck in the camps, Larina was reminded of the anger that had motivated her to spy for the Dominion. 

She entered the Treasury House in time to see Reberuus mutter something sharp and nasty towards a frazzled looking Rhiada, her blonde hair piled on top of her head and a wailing child clinging to her hip. Bobbing from side to side to soothe her daughter, Rhiada tried to organise the papers on the desk before her one handed, before she noticed Larina had entered and flashed her a distracted smile. 

“Is it any cooler out there?” she asked, but from the look on her face it was apparent she already knew the answer. Larina shook her head before replying, 

“Perhaps  _ warmer _ ,” she could feel the beads of sweat on her forehead that must have been noticeable. “What was that all about?” Larina asked, gesturing towards the doorway that Reburrus had stormed out. Rhiada rolled her eyes and set her daughter on the side and explained, 

“He wasn’t exactly happy I had brought Elia with me, but she wouldn’t stay with my friend who usually looks after her, kept screaming every time I tried to leave” affectionately Rhiada planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead before continuing. “She wouldn’t settle all night because of the heat, poor thing, I do hope it breaks some point today” and she swept the damp curls out of her daughter’s face. 

Shifting the weight of her legs, Larina remembered what Voada had told her that morning and hoped to alleviate Rhiada’s worry somewhat. 

“I hear there probably will be a big thunderstorm later this afternoon, that should hopefully clear some of this closeness” Larina sighed at her own words: she had once enjoyed the heat of the midyear sun, especially when there was a river to run into and cool off in. Even during the unpredictable waves of heat and ensuing storms, the torrential downpours were warm enough that the kids would still run around and play outside, the parents watching them as they were soaked to the bone, to any outsider they would have looked like madmen. But here in Markarth the summer heat was too unbearable to stay out in it for too long, the thick stone walls trapping the heat in. 

As she turned to leave, Larina paused for a moment, before retrieving some scraps of parchment from her bag that were too small to work on - but had been saved for rough designs. Placing them next to Elia with a few pieces of charcoal, Larina gently spoke, “why don’t you draw your mother some pretty pictures while she works?”. 

Rhiada flashed her a smile and gently stroked her daughter’s head. “Aren’t you going to say thank you Elia?” but the young child shyly hid her face against her mother’s chest. Larina reciprocated Rhiada’s smile with a soft one of her own before limping to her office. 

The air in her office was sweltering hot, and opening her small window did nothing to alleviate the heat: she was glad at least that she was wearing something shorter sleeved, but she could already begin to feel the sheen of sweat increasing the dampness of her back. As she began sketching the ideas that Thonar wanted, she wondered why she hadn’t seen him that morning: since her outburst in the Great Hall he no longer waited for her in the mornings nor walked her back to the Keep - not that she was going to complain, her walks back were slower, more peaceful - but if she lost his interest there was no ways she could find the information that the Justiciar expected of her. Larina knew that he was up to something in the Reach, the largest mining town outside of the city was finally in his hands, and she worried about the safety of Calcelmo and the students. But it wouldn’t be until the later afternoon that she would discover why she had not seen him. 

She was part way through designing some carcinets, the silver slender and swirling and encompassing small stones: her hands were tinged with stains of blue and red where she had drawn small stones alongside the jewellery comparing details of sapphires or garnets dependent on the customers choice. She had heard the distant rumbling approach of thunder, coinciding with the grumbling of her own stomach: when Alfa finally appeared in the entrance of her room she had hoped she had brought a plate of food with her, but instead the old servant informed her that Thonar had requested her appearance. Reluctantly Larina rose from her seat, picking up the scattered drawings in her hand, and limped towards Thonar’s office. 

Larina had no time to register Rhiada’s reassuring smile as she passed the woman, and found Thonar sat behind his desk, red faced from frustration and heat. His face and neck were flushed red and beaded with sweat: the few graying hairs that usually hung about his forehead had been slicked back as well. His appearance looked more repugnant to her than ever. Perhaps he knew how badly he looked despite the fact she did not vocalise it and gestured for her to take the empty seat before him. As he spoke, Larina reluctantly sunk into the chair, 

“Unfortunately not all of us can look as glowing as  _ you _ ” though his words appeared to sound complimentary, Larina could hear a faint touch of spite lingering in them. She didn’t exactly feel  _ glowing _ , she felt sticky and hot, the heat emphasising her curls and making them heavy around her head. She had already readjusted the bun she had woken up with, but tendrils of loose curls had still snuck free and clung to the skin of her forehead and neck. Assuming that he had requested her presence to look over the sketches he had requested for the day, Larina dutifully handing over her drawings. 

“This isn’t why I summoned you,” Thonar began, but looked over them nonetheless. Confused, Larina raised her eyebrow, silent and waiting for Thonar to continue. 

“Early this morning the Justiciar sent a servant requesting you for a meeting,” his eyes still on her work, Thonar did not look up. Larina was thankful for his distraction otherwise he would have seen the flash of annoyance that ran across her face. “I don’t know why the Justiciar needed to see you so urgently and so I relayed the message that you would visit him on your lunch break.”

_ no wonder Alfa had taken so long to visit her _ , Larina thought,  __ so far she had taken time to eat at almost the same time everyday, yet now Thonar had delayed her time to deliberately impede upon the Justiciar. “You may finish early now and see why he has summoned you, unless you have any work to finish?” Finally Thonar raised his gaze to her and Larina shook her head, hoping her features conveyed nonchalance. “There’s no need for you to return afterwards, just return again tomorrow morning to continue” Thonar continued, and Larina slowly rose from her seat and began heading towards the door. “And Larina…?” at his call she paused and slowly turned to face him, “these slender things may suit  _ you _ my dear, but the clientele we are aiming for expect  _ extravagance _ , is that understood?” feigning a smile, Larina nodded before limping from the room and heading towards her own office. 

Despite the heat and the dull pain in her leg, Larina packed her satchel as quickly as possible hoping to not make herself sweatier in the process. She justified her rush in not wanting to keep the Justiciar waiting, but she knew in the back of her mind why she moved so fast. Closing the window in case the storm took a turn for the worst, Larina mentally chastised herself: she was desperate to see Corrilian after he had barely said a word to her after her disastrous lesson, curious to know why he had summoned her, assuming that she would see him again during her lesson this evening. Slowly her pace, she realised she didn’t want to appear over eager, a _superior mer_ like himself would probably not be interested in a foolish girl who fawned after him: yet it had been him that had kissed her first. Her feelings for him were still conflicted, a mixture of yearning and annoyance. Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, Larina headed to the door. 

Pausing for a moment at the desk, Larina bid an early farewell to Rhiada quietly, as she noticed her daughter curled up on a chair, finally sleeping: Larina had explained her reasoning for leaving early. 

“Did you hear the thunder?” Rhiada murmured to her, and Larina wondered if it had gotten worse during her meeting with Thonar. “Hopefully the air is cooler out there,” the Breton sighed before adding, “thank you for giving Elia the charcoal and parchment, it was certainly kind of you my dear” but Larina simply shrugged her words off and bid her farewell until the morning. 

Stepping out onto the street, Larina watched the sheet of lightning that now lit up the bruised purple sky, yet she noticed still the stone of the city was bone dry as she ascended the stairs slowly to the upper wall. Despite the lightning the heat had not dissipated and still in the distance she heard the murmur of street vendors. She wished her limp had not impeded her gait, her ascent of the stairs now slower and more exhausting, and for a moment she had to pause beneath the waterfall, catching the torrent of water into her hands and trying to cool her skin. She could not linger for long, knowing it would be rude to keep the Justiciar waiting any more. The gods damn Thonar, telling the Justiciar she would visit him during her break, only to keep her working throughout the afternoon: obviously the foolish Nord thought himself above everyone else, but surely it was just polite manners? 

Seeing her limping approach the guards opened the heavy doors for her, allowing her to enter the Keep and its wall of stifling heat. Limping towards the Justiciar’s office she only paused for a moment as his own guard knocked on the door and waited for his response before finally opening the door and instructing her in. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

As the heavy door closed behind her, Larina hiestated in the doorway, her stomach flipping slightly with nerves: she wanted to apologise for her delay and blame it on Thonar but for some reason the words could not come out. The air in his office was slightly cooler than the rest of the Keep, but not by much: the small window that overlooked the Reach was as open as it could be and the ledge slightly frosted where she could only assume he had cast a spell in an attempt to cool the room. Finally taking in his appearance Larina realised what Thonar had meant by calling her  _ glowing _ . 

His heavy, dark Thalmor robe lay across the back of his chair, and rather than wearing a dark coloured tunic like usual he wore one that was slightly off white that emphasized his golden skin: the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and unbuttoned rather precariously revealing most of his sternum and his collarbones, his amulet dangling there. His hair was pulled back loosely on the top of his head, rather than draping around his shoulders or pulled slightly back, his whole demeanour appearing nonchalant. She wondered if he had been expecting any other guest whether he would have redressed, was it simply her he did not fix his appearance for.

Not looking up from the notes he was scribbling, he murmured for her to take the empty seat, doing as she was told Larina felt her cheeks flush pink. He must have felt her gaze upon him and she sunk into the chair slightly embarrassed. Sitting opposite him she was hyper aware of how awful she looked compared to him, her hands stained, face flushed and sweaty, and stray curls flying free and frizzy. How could he still look so good despite the heat? For a brief moment her mind wandered and she wondered whether it was  _ him _ specifically that she found so attractive or whether it was because for the first time in her life she had met a younger Altmer, who also displayed a faint interest in her. Ondolemar had been at least a hundred years older than Corrilian, Estormo didn’t make her heart skip the way the Justiciar did and although she had initially held a crush on Aicantar, it had never been reciprocated and she grew to love him more as a brother. 

Pulled out of her thoughts, Larina realised that still Corrilian had not raised his eyes to her or otherwise acknowledged her presence from his work and began to stammer out her apology. 

“I heard you sent a servant to fetch me for a meeting? I’m so sorry, usually I have some time around midday to take a moment’s rest and eat but today Thonar chose to let me finish early rather than giving me that time”. Usually she was so caught up in her work that she never usually realised how much time had passed until Alfa had brought her something to eat and she realised she was starving. 

At her words Corrilian finally set down his quill and raised his gaze to her and asked, 

“Have you not eaten at all?” his features remained unchanged from his cool demeanour: when he saw Larina’s shake of her head, he gracefully rose from his chair and headed towards the door. Realising he was probably going to call for a servant to fetch her something to eat she called after him,

“It’s fine, I’m really not that hungry and can wait until dinner” it wasn’t really a lie, the heat had taken away most of her appetite. The Justiciar didn’t respond but slowly returned to his seat, and paused standing to pour two glasses from a pewter jug and filling them with water, cooling them with a freezing spell before handing one to Larina. 

She felt his gaze upon her as she pressed the cold glass to her face and neck before taking a sip before he finally spoke,

“It was nothing of urgence,” he drawled somewhat bored as he sunk into his seat and lent back, nursing the cold glass in his hand. “I thought it was best to inform you that given the weather to postpone your lessons until another day”. Larina opened her mouth to protest at his words, but the raise of his eyebrow silenced her as he added, 

“I decided to cancel your lesson for today as I am concerned about the storm, and with your latent abilities did not want to risk you injuring yourself or others if we practiced in this weather, I’m sure you can understand?” She didn’t like the fact that despite the intention of his words, there was no hint of concern in his tone. 

Larina nodded before replying, 

“Yes I guess I understand,” and dropped her gaze as she took a sip of the cold water, “I’d rather not risk harming the others or myself” for a moment she hesitated, wondering if she could bring up the topic of his fight with Aicantar, but couldn’t summon the courage to do so. 

“Do you think I’m to blame for this weather?” she asked, her cheeks flushing at her own question, worried that she appeared stupid. 

“I assume not… Why do you ask?” still his tone remained bored and Larina did not lift her gaze as she replied. 

“Well... one or two people joked I was accidentally to blame for this weather due to my abilities….and I learnt through my own research that old Bretons native to the Reach had the natural ability of tapping into the power of the land….I just thought” her words trailed off as she realised how stupid she sounded, lying to cover up Voada’s revelation to her. 

“You said your family was not native to the Reach?” Corrilian drawled and at his words Larina raised her gaze again and shook her head as she replied, 

“Well...not to my knowledge  _ no _ , I just thought it was a possibility” she felt her cheeks flush pink again. For a moment they sat in silence and Larina quickly took in his appearance again as his gaze looked past across her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed before but his eyes appeared more worn, more  _ tired _ . She remembered his conversation with her uncle, that he would be leaving again tomorrow for a few days. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow for Rorikstead aren’t you?” she asked, and at her words he remained silent but nodded. “Ondolemar did not leave the Keep this often during his entire station here, why do you have to leave us again?” the words she murmured she hadn’t intended to slip out. Abruptly Corrilain rose from his seat again and empty the remaining water of the jug into his glass before slamming down onto the adjacent cupboard with a thud. “The business of the Dominion is no concern of yours…” the sharpness of his tone startled her, Larina’s heart sank into her stomach.  _ Had she overstepped the mark?  _

Slowly rising from her seat, Larina drained the water from her glass, quickly wiping the water she spilled over her chin with the back of her hand before he noticed. 

“My apologies, Justicar, It was not my place to ask” her own tone of formality echoing between them as she headed towards the door. 

His strong grip on her wrist halted her before she knocked on the heavy doors for them to be opened. Turning to face him, her face was washed with confusion as she raised her eyebrows to question his actions. 

Softly brushing a few errant curls from her forehead, Corrilian softly murmured, 

“Make sure you have something to eat…” before opening the door for her to leave. 

Replying the few moments together in confusion, Larina limped back to her room wondering which part of her conversation had irritated him. She opened her balcony door hoping to instill some cool air into the room, envious of the Justiciar’s ability of casting a cooling spell to somewhat lower the temperature. She was debating the idea of running a cool bath to freshen herself up for the evening meal when a brief rap at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. 

“I was told to bring you something to drink and eat….” the servant shifted awkwardly at the door with a tray of food in her arms: Larina thanked them before taking it out of their hands and setting it down on her stone table before closing the door. A plate of dates, bread and cheese and a cold glass of wine. 

Undressing into her underclothes, Larina took the tray with her onto her balcony to slowly eat in confusion knowing full well who’d ordered it for her.  _ I wish for once he’d tell me directly what his feelings were _ , she thought to herself,  _ only a day before he had kissed me and now he just appears annoyed at my mere presence _ . 

As she slowly ate the food, Larina realized that she had been hungry all along. 

  
  


✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

**** Larina had picked at the tray of food that had been brought to her, she didn’t have to eat it and the sentiment behind it still left her confused, but she did have a slight appetite that would eat her way before the evening meal. Flashes of purple continued across the Reach in the distance, the hills and valleys emphasising the rumble of thunder, yet still no rain. Again her mind ran to the students in the camps and how they were handling the heat, hoping they were still alive. 

Returning into her room, Larina left the discarded tray on her stone table before filling her wash basin from the jug beside it - the water lukewarm and room temperature. But it did nothing to alleviate her temperature. With no lessons to take up her free time, Larina redressed in a clean underdress and settled onto her bed to read the poetry book that Corrilian had left her, killing time and trying to keep as cool as possible before dressing for the evening meal. Apart from the two poems he had transcribed for her, the rest were all in altermis and completely impossible for her to understand. She tried a few times to say the words aloud, assuming how she thought they’d sound based on conversations she had heard. She wondered if she sounded foolish. A brief bang at her door jolting her out of her thoughts. 

Her sudden burst of anxiety was unnecessary, simply a servant informing her that the dress code for the evening meal had been dressed to accommodate the heat. Larina thanked the servant and handed over her discarded tray before closing the door with a sigh. Wondering what she could possibly wear. The heat had only increased and wearing her tunic for the evening would not be formal enough and too warm: she did have that beautiful seafoam dress, but she didn’t want to ruin it with over sweating from the heat. Reaching into the back of her wardrobe for a long neglected dress that had been brought with her, Larina realised reluctantly what she was going to wear. 

Amongst her few belongings she had brought from home was a short sleeved moss dress: discarded once her wardrobe began to increase and with her recent purchase of new dresses, for the simple purpose that it was too tight. But now pulling it over her head she realised that despite a little discomfort, it fit her alright. The sleeves billowed slightly at elbows and collar was a circular shape that was no longer popular in the court, but it was thin enough to keep her cool. The detailing was simple, bands of silver swirling embroidery along the hem of her dress, the end of her sleeves, just above her waist and around the collar. To keep the heavy weight of curls off the back of her neck, Larina re-tidied the bun on top of her head before beginning her limp to the Great Hall. 

Her appearance did not stand out amongst the court, this evening the men had completely forgone their jackets and remained in only their tunics in the lightest colours, and unfortunately for her, she matched with Thonar. It was not a detail he had missed as he murmured it into her ear as he filled her glass with wine, the creeping appearance of his hand on her thigh now returning. It was a good sign, no matter how her irritation and the heat tried to convince her to react violently. Her aunt wore a short sleeved dress in a vibrant shade of red, emphasising the paleness of her skin in an unflattering way. Larina knew her aunt prided herself on the lightness of her skin, but the combination of the dress and the light made her look sickly and washed out. 

Like the Justiciar he was seated beside, Estormo wore a dark colored tunic, fully buttoned and the sleeves still in place. Larina realised that he was drinking more than usual this evening, his golden skin flushed slightly and fidgeting slightly in his seat: the heat was making him uncomfortable, a revelation that surprised Larina given her understanding of where the young mer was from. Like usual her gaze was drawn to the Justiciar, whose features now worried her slightly, and she was sure it must be noticeable to the rest of the court: in the few hours she had seen him last his face appeared more tired and drawn, his cheeks slightly hollow, was he beginning to get sick? He had added food to his plate but most of it remained untouched, the only thing passing to his lips was his glass of brandy that remained frosted from the faint blue glow of his finger tips. 

“I think you should extend that ability to all of us Justiciar” her uncle joked but Corrilian remained silent. With the topic of magicka now centered on his mind Igmund finally addressed her at the table before the court,

“And how was your first lesson Larina?”. 

She felt her mouth dry before she was able to properly answer, and took a hasty sip from her glass, her mouthful too much and instantly going straight to her head.

Attempting to regain composure she tried to play off her spluttering and replied, 

“Alright I guess uncle, though the lesson was cancelled today because of the weather…” her mind worked in overdrive thinking of what she could say to keep the court at ease but allow her to keep her lessons, and accidentally passed the buck, 

“But I’m sure the Justiciar could tell you more about my abilities than myself”. For the first time that evening his gaze met hers, and despite the tiredness of his eyes, there was still a flash behind them .

“Your niece has been performing quite well given the circumstances” the Justicar drawled after a sip of his drink, the eyes of the court lingering on him. “I know your opinions already, Igmund but I do believe her lessons should continue whilst I am away, she is in safe enough hands with the Khajiit and the young mage”. There was a slight shift in his tone that unsettled her and she wondered if anyone else noticed it, she hoped it was the heat and the prospect of a long day of travel that had irritated him. The prospect that her uncle had potentially planned to put her lessons on a hiatus distracting her from the thought. 

Once it became apparent that the court was picking their way sluggishly through the meal, too distracted from the heat, her uncle called them all to retired into the Great Hall. Larina knew it would be slightly cooler there, its ceiling itself was not buried under the mountain but slightly exposed, rather than being a sun trap the shade of the mountain kept it cool. As she entered into the Great Hall, oblivious to what Mina was informing her, she wondered if she imagined the sound of a heavy downpour of rain, the rest of the court appeared not to react to it. 

Rather than joining her uncle that night, the Justiciar accepted the free seat beside her aunt reluctantly as she began to admonish him for his lack of appetite before his trip: amongst the murmurs she could hear her aunt prying about her lesson, hoping to find more gossip about her niece. Larina was pleased to see that so far the Justiciar appeared to remain tight lipped. 

Returning to the conversation she had drowned out, she realised that Mina was gently teasing the younger Thalmor agent as he complained about the heat: with the Justicar now distracted he had unbuttoned one of the top buttons of his tunic and slowly rolled up his sleeves. 

“I thought you’d be accustomed to hotter weather than the normal cooler climate of Skyrim?” Larina joined in the teasing, somewhat surprised to see that once he was driven from the topic of the might of the Dominion, Estormo was fairly easy to talk to. 

“Yes but it was never this humid” Estormo huffed, wiping his brow that Mina had given him: despite her frizzy fur she appeared to be handling it better. 

“I do understand what you mean Estormo” Larina reassured him, her eye catching that the Justiciar was now retiring himself surprisingly early for the evening and hoping that it did not show in the tone of her voice. “It’s unseasonably hot for the Reach and inside these walls we’ll see no reprieve”. She watched as he refilled his glass shakingly with a generous amount, no one else appeared to catch it but her. Distracted, she remained in the conversation with the Khajiit and the Mer as they discussed the summers of their childhoods, knowing that it would have looked strange for her to follow after him. 

Soon her tiredness was beginning to overcome her, perhaps she had drunk too much wine in an attempt to cool herself or the heat was too stifling for her to concentrate. Now she had a justifiable reason to leave, Resting her hands on the top of the table, Larina gently pushed herself upright out of her seat. 

“Are you retiring early?” she had expected the question to come from Mina rather than the young Thalmor agent. Perhaps they were beginning to bond more than she thought. With a soft smile Larina nodded her head and blearily rubbed her eyes, replying, 

“Unfortunately so, I think the heat has gotten to me a bit too much”. 

Casting a slightly furrowed gaze over her face, Mina replied, 

“Yes you are looking a little pale, try and get some rest. I had half expected your uncle to deny your lessons continuing without the presence of the Justiciar, try and get some rest for tomorrow”. The Khajitt had echoed her own sentiments. For a brief moment her aunt’s gaze met hers and Larina quickly bobbed her head in farewell, Daciana looking away unfazed. Casting a quick glance at the table behind her and noticing that Thonar was distracted by her uncle, she began her limped getaway hoping to leave before he noticed. 

The heat in the sanctum and halls had cool slightly as the night had drawn in but not by much and the few guards that passed her looked drenched in sweat from their heavy armour. Though their expressions remained placid a knotted feeling her stomach began to increase. Something was worrying her and she couldn’t figure out what. Perhaps absently she was worried about the Justiciar’s tired appearance, his trip in the morning or her lessons continuing on without him. It wasn’t until she rounded the corner into the long hallway running towards their rooms that she realised what her gut had been warning her about. 

Sunk to his knees in the dimly lit hallway, the Justicar was bent double, one arm resting against the cool stone wall. Even in the dim light she could see the knuckles of his splayed hand taut. She wondered if he had been here in this position all this time, until her gaze noticed that he was turned to leave. Limping as fast as she could and forgetting all sense of propriety, Larina anxiously rested her hands on his shoulders, 

“By the gods Corrilian what’s wrong? Are you sick?” the worry in her voice echoing through the hallway. The free arm that draped at his side now lashed out, almost toppling her backwards with his ferocity, 

“ **_Leave me alone_ ** ” his words were low and steady, but sounded pained through gritted teeth. Larina’s mind raced with worry,  _ was he infected _ ? 

“At least let me help you to your room…” she murmured, feeling the tears prick at her eyes. He was hunched double the hallway for a reason, whether from pain or nausea and she wasn’t going to leave him on his own, no matter how proud he was. As he turned to slowly face her she had expected to see his tired face now paled in the dim light, but as her gaze met his she tried her best to control her own shock. 

His golden eyes had darkened and widened, almost wild but contained. She had only seen this expression in her aunt when she was too drunk to control herself. But in Corrilian it had appeared more unnatural. His face had sharpened to an almost deadly point and despite being doubled he appeared broader than normal. Surely the light was playing tricks on her. But as he opened his mouth to speak again she realised something was wrong, there was something about the perfect white of his teeth that now caused her to instinctively freeze to the spot. Corrilian’s nails sunk into the stone wall as if he was holding on for dear life as through clenched teeth he snapped, 

“Get Aicantar and get me  _ out of the Keep _ ”. For a moment Larina stood paused in fear before she swallowed her words, hitched her skirts and limped as fast as she could through the Keep to the laboratory. 

She tried to maintain a cool demeanour knowing that if she was caught on her way to the laboratory she’d get them all in trouble. The only other person who’d find Corrilian in that hallway would be Mina, and Larina hoped she was still being entertained in the Great Hall or at the very least with Aicantar in the Laboratory. She knew the Khajiit wouldn’t be the one to run the guards that something was wrong, but she couldn’t be certain. 

“ **_Larina_ ** , you know you’re not meant -” even from his distance he could sense something was wrong with her frazzled state and if not for the urgency she would have lost her patience at yet another man raising his voice to he **r** . 

“There’sSomethingWrongWithTheJusticiarYouNeedToComeQuickly” she wheezed out, annoyed that her lack of breath had stopped her conveying the matter and urgency. Abandoning his works and darting towards her, Aicantar cast a cautious glance towards the entrance to the laboratory before demanding, 

“By the gods Larina catch your breath, slow down and start again”. She didn’t have time to slow down, and through shaky breaths she began again. 

“There’s something wrong with Corilian, I found him slumped in the hallway to our rooms,” from the expression on Aicantar’s face she knew what he was going to say but stopped him before he had a chance to interrupt her. “He’s  _ not _ sick, I know what the Afflicted look like Aicantar, he’s in pain. He told me to fetch  _ you _ specifically to help get him out of the Keep” her brows furrowed in annoyance that they were taking too long and impulsively began limping towards the entrance.

With an exasperated sigh Aicantar called after her, “Wait a moment, I need to leave a note in case Mina comes looking for me or my uncle returns, gods unlikely, and wonder where I’ve gone”. Larina shifted awkwardly from side to side as she watched him quickly scrawl his note but not quick enough for her: she was adamant not to get caught and it felt like Aicantar was taking too much time. 

“If this is a waste of my time,” Aicantar began irritated as they quickly marched towards the halls, until Larina shot him a look to silence him. 

“You didn’t see him this evening,” Larina shot back, “he looked  _ exhausted _ ”. 

In the time it had taken her to limp and fetch Aicantar, Corrilian had been able to return to his room to fetch his wolves, who now accompanied him at his side. Now completely upright he was leant facing the wall, his palms against the cool stone and his head bowed: Potema and Hircine dipped and bowed around him in circles, whining under their breath. Hearing their footfall in the otherwise empty hallway, all three turned to face them. 

In the dim light Larina noticed the growing look of concern on Aicantar’s face suddenly shifted to  _ fear _ : she had been right in her apprehension and clearly Aicantar recognised the sickness, but now she was more worried than ever. 

“We need to get him out of the Keep as quickly as possible,” Aicantar murmured, his hands clenching at his sides, the dim glow of orange in his fists lighting up the hall. At the sight the wolves raised their hackles and began to snarl and prowl in his direction until the snap of Corrilian’s finger silenced them. 

“We have time” the Justiciar murmured, and despite his fearsome, proud expression he began his pained steps forward: Aicantar reluctantly met him halfway as he stumbled and began supporting him with his own bodyweight as they began their fast pace down the hallway. Struggling to keep up as she limped after them, Potema lagged behind, keeping her body between Larina’s and Corrilian’s. Larina quickly realised it was intentional. 

Hearing her still continuing after them, Aicantar called over his shoulder for her to return to her room. 

“Don’t be ridiculous” she snapped back, “If I hadn’t convinced you it was urgent you would have left him here” burying her hand in the wolf’s fur and depending on her strength to help her match the mer’s pace. She wondered if the sound of the Justiciar’s dry laugh was imagined. 

“What’s wrong with him anyway,” she added, trying to hide the growing concern in her own voice. “I know you know Aicantar”. Whatever she could’ve imagined she had not expected to snap out of Aicantar’s mouth. 

“ _ He’s shifting _ ”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm finally back! I'm sorry it's taken so long, it's been a crazy few weeks for me ;w; hopefully I've not driven you off and this long chapter makes up for it!
> 
> Apologies if its a bit erratic and has spelling/grammar mistakes, I wanted to upload tonight rather than tomorrow and I'll check through again tomorrow and answer some comments <3
> 
> I've missed you guys!


	39. Bad Moon

Larina struggled to keep pace with them, surprised that Corrilian remained silent at Aicantar’s words. 

“What do you mean?” Larina nervously laughed, hoping that as they lurched towards the Inner Sanctum that they wouldn’t be spotted. 

“Come on Larina,” Aicantar huffed as he continued to carry most of the Justiciar’s weight, the sight of him slumped and barely responsive unnerving her. 

“ _ Think about it _ ”. 

Her mind raced as she attempted to keep up with them, and then all of a sudden her mind connected the dots. The wolves, the constant feeling of being watched like prey, the faint burns in his skin when his silver jewellery was missing and the scars that littered his body. Was it to punish himself or convince others he was  _ normal _ . His trip began to make sense to her now, it had been almost a month since his last one, was he getting out of the Keep to safely transform? Her mind suddenly settled on a worrying conclusion. 

Aicantar had paused, propping Corillian against a crumbling pillar for support, to catch their collective breaths and determine what guards were in front of the great doors. Determined not to show her fear, Larina’s gaze quickly flashed over Corrilian’s taut, waning face and met his eyes: darkened and dilated, he remained silent, his teeth clenched together in pain or exertion, she couldn’t tell. 

“He’s been leaving the Keep to transform somewhere safely in the Reach without harming anyone in the city or the court”. Larina murmured, interrupted by Aicantar before she could continue, 

“Yes I already thought as much” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as his gaze returned to the guard.

“No you don’t  _ understand _ ” Larina snapped back, her tone causing Aicantar’s eyebrow to raise as he turned to face her as she continued, 

“The Justiciar has probably had to deal with this affliction for a long time, meaning he knows how to prepare for his transformations and make sure he is somewhere safe as it happens” she paused for a moment as her mouth tried to keep up her thoughts, Aicantar remaining silent but nodding in agreement to show her he was still listening. “The last time he went away he was gone for several days, including the time it took to get to and from Falkreath. I think he left with enough time to in case he transformed early or later than expected, plus the time he would have been transformed as a beast, just in case. He was leaving for Rorikstead  _ tomorrow _ but the full moon isn’t for another few nights, I doubt he would have taken a risk of leaving so close to his change…”. Realising what she implied, Aicantar’s eyes widened as he muttered, 

“Do you think someone found a way to bring it on early…” They both cast their gaze to the Justiciar, regarding him as he stood, tall but exhausted, eyes closed, brow furrowed and dripping with sweat. 

Larina knew that Aicantar’s remaining question was left unvoiced between them,  _ who would do it _ and  _ why _ . 

“If you’re done gossiping, I am exerting a lot of energy right now to _not_ turn into a savage beast and tear everyone in this Keep into pieces” Corrilian snapped between clenched teeth, his eyes slowly opening to watch them: the sight of his darkened pupils unnerving her. 

Stepping forward, Aicantar loosened the Justiciar’s grip from the pillar and pulled him over into Larina’s embrace. 

“Do you think you can support him for a moment, I’ve had an idea..” Larina had little time to agree as Aicantar marched ahead to confront the soldiers guarding the door. She heard the distinct sound of Corrilian’s annoyance at being left to cripple her strength, but despite his defiance had little strength himself to stand alone. She wondered if he could feel her body shaking, the wolves standing exceptionally close to her now, including Hircine. Realising the irony of her name Larina had to hold back her nervous laugh. Her core tightened as she felt Corrilian rest his head on hers, for a moment thinking it was to rest, until she heard the sound of him sniffing her hair. 

“I can  _ smell _ you’re scared…” his words rasped close in her ear, causing her shoulder instinctively to rise. “I wouldn’t hurt  _ you _ ” despite the intention of his words, she could still hear his teeth grinding together. Yet despite the rising fear prickling in her skin, a strange feeling of warmth began to pool in her stomach. Her cheeks flushed red as she heard his low chuckle in her ear, could he sense that too?

Exhaling a shaky breath Larina watched as Aicantar’s hand glowed a faint blue as he mesmerised the guards into letting them past without interrogation. With them momentarily stunned Larina took the sign from Aicantar to drag Corrilian forward and towards the doors: despite his heaviness she supported him as best as she could as they lurched forward, subtly knowing that Corilian was trying his best to help her. Passing the guards she was amazed to see how docile and placid they appeared, unaware as Aicantar flung open one of the golden doors and held it open for them to pass: quickly Larina made a mental note to ask the mer to teach her that when he thought she was capable, the prospect of getting her aunt or Thonar off her back too good to ignore. 

“ _ Gods… _ ” she heard Aicantar mutter angrily, his words pulling her out of her thoughts, another flash of light emitting from his hands before she had a chance to ask. The sight of the confused, swaying guards outside the doors answering her questions. 

For the briefest of moments they paused outside on the ledge, watching as the sky was slowly, intermittently lit up sheets of lightning, the thick thunder clouds and heavy rain obscuring most of the city from view. 

“...where do we go?” Aicatatar muttered, looking from one staircase to another, “we should’ve stayed in the Keep, gotten him into the Dwemer ruins and locked the door behind him”. For a strange moment Larina felt a sudden flash of anger. 

Lurching forward she began dragging Corrilian to the right side of the ledge, Aicantar darting after her to help carry the weight of the now pained looking Justiciar. Descending the staircase to the lower level they all had to use their balance to prevent them slipping on the wet stone of the stairs, and tumbling downwards. Exhausted and soaked Larina finally bit back, 

“We couldn’t have let him lose in the ruins, you know they’re like a labyrinth, what if he got lost or injured? The court would be in uproar wondering where the Justiciar went and we’d have the Dominion descending down on us to locate him”. 

“So what do  _ you _ suggest” Aicantar bit back sharply, making sure to keep them as close to the wall and in the shadows as possible. 

Ignoring the tone in his voice, worried more about the safety of Corrilian and themselves, she explained, 

“The Warrens…. We can get there mostly unseen this way, the guards mostly keep to the upper walls, especially in this weather and the beggars have been removed now. It’ll only be the guards outside Cidhna mine you’ll need to distract, I’m sure we can use one of the buried houses in the Warrens to safely trap him until this is all over”. With no other option available to them, Aicantar nodded in agreement and led the way. 

Larina was too nervous to cast a glance upwards and see how he appeared, wondering if he was beginning to look wolfish and feral. When she finally gathered the guts to do so she was reassured at least that he still looked somewhat himself: but his focus was strained and looking ahead, his cheekbones more visible than ever and his face now held a sharpness that caused her stomach to flip. For a brief moment his gaze met her own and she wondered what he was thinking, her eyes dropping to his mouth as his top lip curled slightly exposing his teeth. Most of his weight was now supported by Aicantar and through sheer stubbornness and willpower he kept moving ahead. She wondered if she was offering any support at all even as he was partially draped across her. 

His tight grip on her shoulder was now beginning to hurt her, and she wondered if it was her mind running or reality that made it feel like his nails had now sharpened. Larina had no heart to tell him how much he was hurting her, as now even by the dim moonlight she could see his features were no longer hiding his pain. 

Drenched with rain, through gritted teeth and the tired breath of carrying most of the Justicar’s increasing bodyweight, Aicantar urged him on. 

“We’re almost at the Warrens now, by the gods hold on until then” the fear in his voice echoing her own. 

Keeping to the lower levels of the city and treading the sunken wooden boards close to the water, there was no need for Aicantar to cast a spell on the guards, their figures shrouded in the darkness and spraying water. To anyone looking at a distance they must have looked like drunken revellers caught in the storm. 

Setting Corrilian down on one of the large boulders, between them Larina and Aicantar tried any golden door that would open, searching the insides of the homes for the right one to contain Corrilian. 

“What about this one?” Larina called over her shoulder, hoping that Aicantar could hear her through the storm. His presence behind her as he cast a light spell to check inside the building, hoping that the roof was still intact and with no exits in sight. Leaning on the door frame exhausted she watched as Aicantar quickly surveyed the room, especially the large dark pit at the centre. 

“I think the landslide caused it, but it looks like it just opens into a hollow chamber, should give him a little room not to feel cooped up and go even more  _ feral _ ” his sharp words through clenched teeth seemed like they were tinged with humor, nodding in agreement they went to quickly fetch the Justiciar. 

She had expected to find him hunched over on the boulder, the exertion of not transforming crippling him. Instead he sat upright, his head tilted back and catching the rain on his face. Every instinct of survival in her body screamed at her that now was her opportunity to run, to get back to the Keep, to safety. But something deep in her stomach kept her rooted to the spot. 

As Aicantar passed her to his side and spoke to him, Larina stayed where she stood, watching as Aicantar spoke to him, his words unintelligible in the storm. Despite the fact that Corrilian was only a few inches taller than Aicantar, as he rose to his feet he appeared to tower over the other mer, and she could sense the unease in Aicantar’s body language. Approaching the ruined house, Corrilian stopped momentarily before her. 

He quickly pulled his amulet over his head, removed his earrings and his thumb ring before pressing them into her hand. “I’ll probably lose them in the transformation and won’t be able to find them again in the dark”. Larina nodded and accepted them and turned as he asked her to look away. Was he beginning to transform and didn’t want her to see the effects of it? 

She heard a strange rustling sound until she felt Aicantar shove something into her arms and listened to his footfall as he followed after the Justiciar: as she heard the clang of the heavy dwemer door closing, above the sound of the storm, she looked down and realised she was now holding the bundle of his clothes. Tucking them safely under her arm, Larina turned and watched and the building was lit up in a faint purple glow as Aicantar began casting spells: swirls and words begin to attached themselves to the door and as his hand lowered to the ground, she noticed that strange symbols began appearing on the ground in a radius of the door. 

Appearing pleased at his work, Aicantar turned and saw she was watching him and explained, 

“Protection runes,  _ if _ he does manage to get out through the door, these runes should be able to shock him enough into unconscious….I’m sure they’d be able to take down a mammoth” now with the Justiciar safely locked inside his hastily fashioned prison he appeared more at ease. 

Remaining where she stood Larina watched as Aicantar searched for, and dragged back with magicka, piles of stones and towered them in a strange formation: it wasn’t until he shrugged off his cloak and spread it across the top, pinning them in place with a few more smaller stones did she realise that he had made a makeshift shelter and as he settled himself onto the ground, Aicantar patted the space next to him for her to join him. 

As she rested alongside him, Aicantar took the Justiciar’s belongings from her and dumped them behind them, but his amulet remained in her hands: he said nothing as he saw her clinging to it.

“Well….” Aicantar finally broke the silence between them, “finding out our new Justiciar was a werewolf wasn’t what I had on the cards for this year” and at his words they both began to laugh. 

Taking her hands in his own, Larina raised an eyebrow in surprise until she felt her skin begin to tingle and warm, realising that he was warming her up and drying her off from the storm. For the first time in moments, above the thundering of the storm, they heard some commotion from within the house.

With a shaky sign, Larina spoke aloud, 

“How long will his transformation last?” she asked, wondering if Aicanar was well informed on werewolf physiology. Surprised when the mer answered, 

“He said anywhere between six to eight hours, but given the fact his transformation was brought on early he told me to wait at least until sun rise before opening the doors” the nervousness echoed in his voice again. 

“Do you think it hurts?” she asked, her curiosity and fear getting the best of her. 

“I don’t know…” Aicantar murmured before adding, “why don’t you ask him in the morning...you two do appear to be pretty close?”. 

Larina rolled her eyes and attempted to brush his words off, shoving his shoulder with her own. “You do talk some nonsense Aicantar, do you really think I wanted a werewolf transforming so close to my room or in the Keep? As much as I dislike my aunt I’d rather not see her torn to shreds by a feral beast”. 

Shoving her playfully back, Aicantar’s tone became serious as he added, 

“I’ve seen the way you look at him Larina…. And the way he looks at you. You should have seen the way he reacted when he found you in the museum, the mer damn near killed himself to save you. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but he’s not the mer I know” his words shifting from playfulness to severity. 

“You keep giving me warnings to stay away from him but never explain why…” Larina muttered, her own ease now shifting. “I think I’d take your intentions more seriously if you explained  _ why _ ”. 

“Because I care for you Larina, like the sister I never had, and it did break my heart when you told me your feelings for me and I knew I could never reciprocate them. I want to see you out of this wretched city, and now that we know you have a propensity for magicka I want to see you attending the College, but gaining benefits from being close to a Justiciar? You’ll only get hurt in the process” despite the intention of his words and she knew he genuinely did care, they still stung: because they were familiar, constantly bouncing around in the back of her mind. 

With a sigh and an attempt to change the atmosphere, she finally replied, 

“Looks like my taste in men certainly needs improving, an uninterested, messy scientist and a werewolf? At this point I think the gods are playing with me” it was the first time she had voice aloud her interest in the Justiciar, and to someone else too: but rather than teasing her or reprimanding her again, Aicantar joked in reply, 

“At this point you might as well join one of the temples my dear” and shoved her shoulder playfully again. In the back of her mind somewhat relieved that they had finally become close again, even at the expense of a werewolf transformation. 

  
  


The storm began to ease slightly, the sky remaining dark and punctured by an occasional rumbling: but soon the rain began to ease enough that Aicantar could make a small fire in the ground before them for warmth, knowing that the light would not give their presence away. Killing the time, Larina began to tell him about her work for Thonar, finally glad she could moan about it properly rather than having to bite her tongue. 

“It sounds like you’re genuinely enjoying the work despite his intentions” Aicantar had added, “you’ll be designing crowns for the High King and Emperor soon” he had joked but quickly added in seriousness. “But if that sl’ek does anything to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe you’ll tell me right away?” Larina could tell from his shifting tone and the brief darkening of his eyes that he was serious. 

Her reply was interrupted by the distant echoing sound of a long, lonesome howl above the thundering skies and wind. Between them they quickly shared a glance of fear and unease, steadying themselves for a moment waiting to see if the golden doors would bend. It took a few minutes of shared silence for them to begin to relax and feel at ease again. 

Aicantar began to fill her in on the updates from his uncle in Karthwasten, dancing around the subject until Larina reminded him that despite her fear she wanted to know what was happening. Like her, he suspected Thonar’s involvement with the camps and she felt comfortable enough to air her suspicions to him. “If he says anything to incriminate himself in front of you...you’d tell me right?” thinking quickly Larina nodded, wondering whether she should tell him she was spying for the Justiciar but knew he would be maddened by the idea. 

“I don’t know what it is but something isn’t right there” he muttered under his breath and Larina nodded in agreement. 

“My uncle  _ has _ to be aware that Thonar is increasing his strength by taking prisoners and forcing them into the mines, it’ll be like Cidhna all over again, anyone who disagrees with him will go missing….” Larina’s mind flitted to fact the younger mer had told her only moments ago that he hadn’t seen his uncle in days. 

“You must be worried about your uncle but I doubt he’ll be sick, even though this affliction came as a surprise he knows what he is doing. But I am worried too” hoping to lighten the mood she quickly added, “you must be worried about Thonja as well” she pried, waiting to see his reaction, not skipping a beat he added, 

“I’m worried about  _ all  _ the students”. With a roll of her eyes and a playful shove Larina teased, “You know what I mean Aicantar, I’ve seen the way you look at her”. She had expected him to respond with sarcasm but instead he pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin upon it, a strange perplexed, relaxed look upon his face. 

“There’s something about her that’s so….  _ magnetic _ . She really irritated me at first”, he paused momentarily to smirk at his own words. “I mistakenly interpreted her enthusiasm for naivety, I’d never met a Nord so interested in the study of magicka, the few of them that seemed interested were always in it for  _ profit _ . But that night when she almost died,” Larina noted that he didn’t mention that it was due to  _ his _ actions that she survived but said nothing, “she told me why she was so fascinated in the history of itt: like us mer the Nords somewhat have a long history with magicka they just choose to ignore it, it was why she was so interested in exploring old nordic barrows…. She told me about all the reanimated draugr she had seen, the old magicka that possessed them, it was like a fire had been lit behind her eyes” at his own words Aicantar smiled slightly. Larina realised that he was in love with her, wondering if the thought had dawned on him yet: she could count on one hand the experiences she had with the Mer and how they presented their emotions and she was still confused. Calcelmo had tip-toed around his affection for Faleen and well… the less said about the Justiciar the better. But from her own experiences she knew that the Mer lingered in exposing their affections towards others. 

If she could listen to herself as another body, Larina would have been surprised at how mature and wise she appeared to sound as she began to explain to her friend, 

“Sometimes you Mer forget our lives are fleeting compared to your own: if you wait to tell her how you feel or adhere to some strange social requirements that your people follow it may be too late. Just tell her how you feel, what’s the worst that could happen? That she doesn’t reciprocate…. I’ve seen how Thonja looks at you too Aicantar, I doubt she’d react badly” she hadn't realised how she looked into the distance as she spoke until Aicantar’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts. 

“I can’t pretend to know what your relationship is with the Justiciar… and every warning I’ve given you seems to fall on deaf ears…. but would you really follow your own advice?” he replied, his chin still resting on his knees. 

“It’s not what you think….” Larina replied with a sigh and scrunched her eyes closed, she still wasn’t certain what it was. Whether the Justiciar’s feelings were fleeting or not she was unsure, she knew it wasn’t healthy to ignore the warning signs he gave her, but no one else had caused that painful, intriguing twist in her stomach. 

“If only you knew what he was  _ really _ like” Aicantar spat, his words heavy again, “the lycanthropy is hardly a surprise”. Finally frustrated with his secrecy, Larina spat back, 

“So tell me, because so far your vague words have told me  _ nothing _ . You keep telling me to avoid him but you won’t say  _ why _ , I’m going to start assuming you’re prejudiced towards him”. 

At her words Aicantar abruptly rose to his feet in silence before pacing restlessly, stepping around the spell runes before finally turning to face her. 

“I’m going to head to the Inn and grab some food,” he sighed and ran his hair through his slightly damp hair. “I’d send you but I think people would be curious as to why the Jarl’s niece is out so late in the city….plus they’d believe me if I said I was back from the camps”. For a moment he faltered, his eyes glancing over the rune spells he had cast. “These will keep you safe until I get back” his words were punctured by the stifled sound of a howl and he tried to hide the look of concern on his face. “At the very least they would render him incapacitated enough that you can flee to safety”. His words did nothing to reassure her. 

“I don’t think I could -” Aicantar interrupted her words with a scoff. 

“What leave him or turn him into the guards to kill? Do you think he even knows who you are in this state? I won’t see you ripped to shreds” the flash of anger in his eyes told her there was no reasoning with him: curled up in the shelter of Aicantar’s cloak, Larina watched as he hastily headed off towards the city and turned hesitantly to watch the darkened doorway of the sunken house and wait for his return.

He left her alone to ruminate on her own thoughts and words, worrying that she had said the wrong thing: but the voice in the back of her mind was getting stronger and pushing to the front.  _ Stop sacrificing yourself to protect others _ ,  _ Aicantar is right, if he gets out he wouldn’t tell the difference between you and any other animal or prey _ .

The howls from the depths of the dwemer ruins were becoming less frequent, but still they were making her jump. Realising now in her foolishness the signs were all there, if only she had been smart enough to pick up on them sooner. She wondered if the wolves were safe enough in there with him, but she assumed that if he had transformed countless times he would know whether it was safe enough for them to keep him company or not: this revelation had piqued her interest in him, wondering if he had always been this cursed. Aicantar appeared to know a surprising amount about him but was still reluctant to divulge, she wondered if there was some way to press it out of him. For a brief moment her mind stirred to the image of his appearance as he was battling his transformation: almost instinctively the hairs on her arms rose again, accompanied by the strange, warm feeling in her chest she couldn’t place. Her thoughts interrupted by Aicantar’s hasty return, the bottles clinking in his hand, giving him away. 

Perhaps he could see the pensive look on her face as he settled into the spot beside her offering her a bottle: pulling the cork and tasting her first sip of mead, Larina scrunched her face, wishing it was wine. She knew Aicantar had seen her as she heard his soft laugh but remained silent. She knew this was the most conspicuous meal he could’ve brought with him and as he passed something behind them, watching as he placed it on the Justiciar’s discarded clothes. As Aicantar handed something to her she realised it was food, somewhat surprised to see that he had included some for Corrilian as well. 

Perhaps too spoilt, Larina turned her nose up at the small wedge of cheese he gave her, but began nibbling at the crust of the dry hunk of bread, wishing that she had eaten more earlier but glad that the warming effect of the mead was slowly starting to take hold. 

“So what distracted you so that you completely forgot we were babysitting a wild beast” he teased, nudging her slightly. 

“ _ Him _ ” she knew she didn’t need to define her response when she saw the expression on his face change. “You keep telling me he’s a threat but you won’t explain  _ why _ , you obviously knew him personally before he came here as a Justiciar so I don’t get why you won’t tell me why you hate him so much”. Taking a sip of his lukewarm mead, Aicantar finally answered,

“quiet….and cruel”. Larina raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, rising to his feet he began to pace carefully around the runes before beginning to explain. 

“I first met him when we were at the College, he was teased quite a lot because he could not grasp conjuration magick as well as the rest of us, but he was _terrifyingly_ good at destructive magick, the mages picked up on it and were worried”. 

Larina appeared appalled at his words, jumping slightly as they were punctured by another howl,

“You’re telling me he was bullied because he could not grasp some of the other schools of magick?”. Aicantar paused for a moment, and Larina tried to work out whether he was focusing on his next words or the runes on the floor, when he turned to face her there was an angered appearance on his face. “Some of the students teased him because of his  _ family _ , most of us there were children of already established mages or magickal noble families, Corrilian was the first in his family to pursue it, knowing his father it mustn't have been an easy task”. Aicantar took another sip of his mead before continuing, 

“His father was an admiral in the Dominion’s navy, quite a fearsome one too, certainly not the type of man to spare the rod. The rumours said during the Great War he had captured a vessel believed to be manned by Imperial soldiers and some of their families, he did not kill them but after their ordeal many would have wished to have been dead” the way Aicantar said those words, so cold and steady, made her stomach twist. 

“He left the navy with his medals, still quite respected in Skywatch and entered a partnership with the East Empire Trading Company, and I think that’s what he had expected Corrilian to do until he revealed his strong magickal talents…” Aicantar paused a moment before continuing. 

“turns out Corrilian had a natural talent for raising things from the dead. He’d always had a fondness for animals, whenever he would summon a bound familiar he was always stronger than ours, practically regarded it as a pet... anway the animals he re-animated on his family estate were unpredictable and wild but he had no interest in stopping. I think his old man was just as fearful of him re-animating something  _ worse _ -”

“How do you know so much about him if you didn’t know him until College?” Larina interrupted, a quizzical look upon her face. “I was one of the few people friend’s with him in the class, he felt comfortable enough sharing this with me”. 

Aicantar continued “at first I pitied him until I realised how cruel he really was. The taunting did not appear to affect him that much, at  _ first _ but then I saw what about it really bothered him. Corrilian made it quite clear he did not value the opinion of the other races, angry that those he viewed as  _ lower _ than him had the power to make him feel small. Made it quite clear that he believed allowing non Aldermis students to practice magick was  _ polluting _ it, I thought I could change his mind, thinking he was parroting the words of his father but…” 

Larina encouraged him to continue, wondering how worse it could get. 

“In the group that taunted them, there was a dunmeri student that he had come to blows with quite a lot, Kausi I  _ think _ was his name, in one of the destruction classes they had been pitted against each other to practice their skills, it wasn’t unusual and vigilated by one of the mages. For the first time we saw one of Corrilian’s bound familiar’s destroyed, unsurprisingly people were impressed but Corrilian reacted pretty badly, summoned a bound dagger and slashed Kausi pretty badly. First time we’d seen anyone summon one, a hard skill to master but the mage determined that he had lost the battle because of it….

Anyway, Kausi wasn’t impressed by the attack and once we left the class and went out into the courtyard, him and his friends jumped him and beat him pretty badly. We all stood on the sidelines and watched, he didn’t even raise a hand to defend himself, pretty much accepted the beating. Some of the students were entertained by the prospect…”

Larina interrupted, horrified, “they were  _ entertained _ by watching him get beaten…?”

“You have to remember Larina, he outright  _ told _ a lot of these students that they had no right to be at the school, that they weren’t racially pure enough, do you think he would have accepted  _ you _ then?” Aicantar replied coldly. 

Larina bit her tongue and let him continue.

“Anyway Kausi told his friend to stop with the assault, said he didn’t want to make Corrilian  _ homesick _ ” Aicantar paused for moment before explaining the comment, as if he had only remembered she had not been there “he never undressed in the same room as the other students and on the one occasion he finally did, the scars on his back had been spotted and rumours spread around the school quickly about his relationship with his father… it appeared he didn’t spare the rod with him either…

...Corrilian just snapped and went for him, beat the life out of him with his bare hands, and then when he was done re-animated Kausi in front of the crowd and made him attack his friend. The poor mer was terrified and passed out, distinctly remembering someone in the crowd throwing up as well. Corrilian said nothing and walked past us, and once the enchantment ended, Kausi crumbled into a pile of ash. 

He was expelled from the school shortly after, officially never graduating from the place, but it didn’t matter, the Thalmor had an agent in the school, waiting to find the right students strong enough to work for them. Snapped him up in an instant, ignoring his interest in necromancy because his destruction was so strong” seeing another look of confusion he explained, 

“All of the Justiciar’s are well trained in destruction magick, to defend themselves and torture prisoners, Corrilian quickly gained a reputation for his  _ cruelty _ .” 

Larina sat in silence, his words making her feel sick, her mind instantly leaping to the sensation of his warm hands on her, the thought now making her tremble for different reasons now. 

Noticing how she paled, Aicantar came to sit beside her,

“ _ That _ is the man you want to give your heart to? He’s a monster Larina, quite literally”. She could not process his words properly. 

“....what if someone had stepped in? Challenged the ideas his father had instilled in him, confronted the people who bullied him, maybe he might not have killed that student” Larina suggested, already knowing how foolish she sounded. 

“He was already interested in dark magick Larina, it was a path he was already heading down” the thought of it terrified her, but a tiny part of her mind was intrigued. 

“He saved my life, you saw it yourself” she had planned to keep the words to herself but they spilled out uncontrolled, something shifted in Aicantar’s features but she could not tell what. 

“And…” Larina hesitated for a moment before adding, “he translated some poetry from Aldermis for me to read, calmed me down when I became too scared to sleep” thankful that she prevented herself from spilling the fact he slept by her side all night. 

“He has an agenda Larina….what that is yet you might not find out, but believe me I have seen his cruelty, there is  _ no _ loving bone in his body. If I was you I’d save this information as a pawn, for whatever reason he has an interest in you he’ll expect it repaid, this might get you out of a lot of trouble” he sighed. 

She remained silent, her pride wounded and unsure how to answer: feeling foolish at her own infantile interest in him she had hoped he had fallen for her, not assuming that he was toying with her emotions to get her to work with him, seeing her as a means to and end nothing to take seriously. But still she did not answer, ashamed to let him know her fears. As they both sat in silence, eaten the rest of their meal that Aicantar had scavenged, she was thankful that the limits of their friendship stretched to sitting in silence without awkwardness. Stomach full and with nothing else to say, Larina curled up beside Aicantar, resting her head in his lap feeling slightly comforted when he wrapped his arm around her: his warmth and cloak providing a small feeling of safety as she fell into a restless sleep.

  
✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Larina was awoken from her uncomfortable, cold sleep by the thudding sound of the heavy metal door: rather than waking, steadily, drowsily from sleep, Larina was suddenly alert. Making sure she had sitten upright and steadid herself, Aicantar quickly rose to his feet, his hand stretching out behind him to warn her to stay where she was. Navigating his pace steadily towards the door, avoiding the still faintly glowing runes on the ground, she watched nervously as he approached the door to finally let Corrilian out. Absentmindedly she wiped the drool from her mouth with the back of her hand and quickly rearranged her hair that had been messed from her awkward sleep. It wasn’t until she tried to rub away the marks of dirt on the hem of her dress did she realise how foolish she was being. _Who_ was she trying to scrub up her appearance for her? Corrilian? He had just, hopefully, awoken from his transformation knowing that not only was his secret out but that someone else in the Keep knew and wanted to expose him. She couldn’t imagine how he was feeling. 

Remaining seated she watched as Aicantar dismissed the spells on the door and heaved it open, blocking the crack in the darkness with his own figure: even where she was seated she knew she wouldn’t have been able to peer in, and could hear in the distance the murmuring sound of Altmeris. Turning his back on the door but leaving it open, Aicantar quickly paced towards her, dismissing the runes on the floor as he went, a reassuring sign to Larina that Corrilian had safely transformed back into a Mer. 

As Aicantar paused before her she realised he wanted her to pass him Corrilian’s clothes and suddenly became very awake that someone beyond that door Corrilian was standing completely naked. Trying to prevent the warm familiar feeling of a blush creeping across her face, she quickly shoved Corrilian’s abandoned clothes into the younger mer’s arms, earning her a quizzical raise of his brow before he stalked off. Larina watched as the bundle of clothes were snatched by golden arms appearing from the darkness before Aicantar returned to her. 

Confused from her sudden awakening from sleep, Larina could not figure a question smart enough to ask Aicantar as he mumbled under his breath in Altermis, dismantling their makeshift camp around them: once he kicked out the fire, he draped his cloak around her shoulders for warmth. 

He hovered uncertainly beside her, not sinking to the ground, and quickly asked, 

“Are you hungry?” Larina shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, 

“I don’t think I’m awake enough to be…” she murmured sleepily until a figure emerging from the sunken dwemer house caught her attention. 

Stepping into the light, she saw his head tilt as he was blinded by the early morning sunlight. Pacing towards them, Larina noticed that he carried his boots in one hand, his golden feet sinking into the mud, his wolves pacing alongside him: she tried to avert her gaze as she noticed that the buttons on his tunic were buttoned dangerously low. As he finally stood before them, his distance kept by Aicantar’s defensive pose, Larina noticed that his face still remained sharp and waned, but an improvement on the night before. 

As if sensing Aicantar’s unsease, Corrilian scoffed and finally spoke, 

“I can reassure you I  _ won't _ transform again” the low rumble of his voice echoing out of his chest, lightly tinted with sarcasm. Larina had never heard his voice sounding so deep, and it caused the hair on her arms to raise. She watched as he slowly sank to the ground a few metres from her, sitting cross-legged on the floor, he tilted his head back to catch the sunlight on his face. He barely flinched as he felt the bundle of food slam into his lap as Aicantar threw it to him: earning him a scowl from Larina. 

Slowly opening his eyes, he caught her gaze for a moment, before ripping into the bread, meat and cheese: his grace and refinery momentarily lost. Larina had to hide her unsease as she watched Potema attempt to reach for a bite of his food: she wondered if he knew she was watching as he shot his wolf a glare and bared his teeth. Maybe he sensed her fear again as his gaze met hers, flashing her a look she could not understand. 

Feeling a strong hand under the crook of her arm, Larina was wrenched to her feet. “Perhaps it is time for you to head back to the Keep,” she heard Aicantar murmur into her ear. Larina noticed that Corrilian hadn’t even noticed her rise, too focused on the food he barely had left. With a reluctant nod, she turned on her heel heading towards the edge of the Warrens, before Aicantar’s grip on her arm held her again. 

Without saying a word she watched as a faint blue glow emitted from his hand and spread to her skin, raising the hair on her arms. 

“It should last long enough for you to sneak back into the Keep without getting caught” Aicantar murmured an explanation before turning his back to her and holding Corrilian in his gaze. 

Reluctantly headed alone towards the keep, amused by the sight of the early morning vendors setting up, looking around in confusion as she passed: as if they were catching glimpses of her in their peripheral. As the morning birds of the Reach finally began their song, Larina was glad to realise she had an hour or two remaining to gain some extra rest and freshen up before heading to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay again and hopefully a little insight into Corillian's dark past is enough to make up for the fact I didn't go into depth about his transformation this time!


End file.
